


Flux

by gryffindormischief



Series: multichapters [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7513216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindormischief/pseuds/gryffindormischief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ginny and Hermione just graduated from Hogwarts and are about to start new careers.  Meanwhile Ron and Harry are advancing within the Auror Department, which means more responsibility and maybe heading up an investigation.  The summer of 1999 will be busy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the intro chapter for a new multichap I am attempting! :) I have the plot all planned out, so updates will only be subject to my time schedule because work (but I anticipate once a week ish). I tried to set up some of the things that are to come, but there will be an auror/mystery element, plus Hermione and Ginny will start working and that should come in too. Also reminder that I don't own stuff ha. Let me know what you think!

Ginny and Hermione graduated in late spring 1999, over a year following the Battle of Hogwarts, as it had come to be known by the general population of the wizarding world. The ceremony was filled with tears, both of happiness and nostalgia, and some shed for those who _should_ have been celebrating, but weren't. Although the knowledge of those missing was present in the minds of all who attended even before the proceedings had begun, Headmistress McGonagall made sure the names of the fallen graduates were not left unheard. Despite the slightly melancholy nature of the event at times, those in attendants, students and families, shouted with excitement as the last name was called and fireworks, care of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, shot across the late afternoon sky.

That had been about a week ago, and since, Hermione had begun her work with the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, a title she took issue with, but with an indignant huff had accepted it, ' _for now_. _'_ She'd start off as an apprentice of sorts, learning how things within the department, and the Ministry at large, worked and how to go about making change. While George grimaced at the idea, Hermione was elated that she would soon have more at her disposal to help the oppressed and sidelined than her knitting needles and multicolored wool.

The Auror Department had seen an influx of applicants after the war, starting the summer immediately after things ended. Ron and Harry had been among those first recruits, along with Neville, beginning their training late that summer. All three had a desire to finish what they'd started during the war, rounding up the last of the Death Eaters, although Harry's intentions seemed to make the position more permanent. They'd managed to capture some low level members of Voldemort's followers, who were, for the most part, cooperating in the hopes of leniency later on. Director Robards had indicated his approval of their performance, as much as one could with a grunt and an infinitesimal lifting of the corner of the mouth, and alluded to the idea that they might run point on a less high profile case in the near future.

Ginny, meanwhile, watched the skies for her official correspondence from the Holyhead Harpies, who had scouted her during the last three games of the Quidditch season at Hogwarts, Gwenog Jones finally breaking the silence after the third by telling Ginny to expect a letter come June that would be ' _very important and interesting_. _'_ With a piercing look, the older woman had strode off, Harpies cloak fluttering behind her. Once the pitch had cleared, Ginny had vaulted over the front of the stands, eyes sharp looking for her favorite member of the crowd, when she noticed the shine of a pair of regulation auror boots in the back left corner, as far away from the now missing throngs as possible. It had become a sort of game between them, Harry switching up his spot each time he attended and Ginny sussing out his location at the end. The most difficult had been the day he'd cloistered himself among the teachers, who lingered long after the game to debate whether Hooch's calls had been accurate. The day Gwenog had approached, Ginny leapt from bench to bench, letting out a loud 'whoop' as she landed in front of Harry with a _creak_ of the weather worn wood, quickly pulling the invisibility cloak from his shoulders and throwing herself into his arms. Harry's green eyes lit up at her excitement, having seen the masterful way she'd played and the recent conversation with the Harpies' coach, and buried his face in her neck, still sweaty from exertion, and whispered, "Well done Gin." After she filled him in, they spent the few hours before sunset snuggled beneath "their" beech tree, talking and sometimes _not_.

And so it came about, during the last weeks of June that Ginny sat at the kitchen table, silence pressing in, along with the muggy heat, as she waited for the letter to arrive, the ticking clock on the mantelpiece her only company. Her eyes glazed as the clock chimed four, the condensation from her cool glass of lemonade pooling on the worn wood table, running through the cracks, and dripping onto her bare freckled thigh. Just as she shook out her hair from it's tight plate, a mid sized tawny owl with bright yellow eyes swooped in and landed on the table in front of her, ruffling its tail feathers that dipped into the chilly water on the table. Ginny froze, eyeing the bird as it shuffled it's claws, before gaining its balance and extending a leg, laden with an formal looking envelope, emblazoned with the Harpies seal. Brown eyes locked with the wide, unblinking yellow orbs, as the owl fluffed its wings, slightly shaking its leg as if to prompt Ginny to remove the missive. Jarred into action, Ginny steeled herself and slipped the envelope from its place, summoning the bag of owl treats from the sideboard and tossing her companion a few, before slipping her slightly trembling finger under the lip and breaking the seal with a _crack._ Taking a deep breath, _get ahold of yourself Weasley_ , she unfurled the crisp parchment and scanned it for the most important information… _"…Congratulations on your selection as one of the potential new members of the Holyhead Harpies for the upcoming season…"_

Ginny let out a shout, causing the owl to jump backwards in alarm, alighting out the window without a backward glance. Pulling the pane closed with a _bang_ she bolted towards the fireplace and tossed a handful of floo powder into the flames, she shouted her destination, disappearing in a cloud of green smoke,

Striding through the quiet flat, she "Harry! Harry?! Harry- oof." With a grin, the young auror looked down at his girlfriend, her hair flying about her head, a piece of parchment clutched in her freckled hand, her face lit up with unbridled excitement, "What's going on Ginny?"

"I got a tryout with the Harpies!" she practically shrieked, throwing herself into his arms, chest heaving with excitement. Harry twirled her around in the thankfully open space of his front entrance, before pulling back and pressing his smile to hers. They broke apart when jubilant giggles bubbled up in her chest, her body humming with adrenaline, "I can hardly believe they want me."

Harry quirked a brow, eyes shining with happiness, "Well I certainly can, between your talent, drive, and the endless hours you put into training the team during practice, and then your private practices afterwards – yes I know about those – I can't see how anyone could be more qualified or deserving."

Ginny fought a blush, her mouth shifting to a smirk, "Quite the flatterer you are Mr. Potter. This had better not be an attempt to get into my knickers."

Placing a hand to his chest, false affront in his voice, Harry led Ginny to the kitchen, settling her onto a metal barstool, "Well I never! I am a _gentleman_."

Snickering, the red head reached for the basket of fresh fruit that Molly Weasley sent over once a week, polishing an apple on her yellow t-shirt and biting into it with a satisfying crunch. Wiping at the tangy juice that dripped down her chin, Ginny swallowed, "Sorry I'm early. I just got excited and no one was home."

Turning as he kicked the fridge closed, Harry placed two icy Butterbeers, twisting the corks out of each and offering one to his girlfriend, "No apologies necessary. I was just puttering around. Quite bored to be honest."

Ginny tossed the apple core into the bin sipping her drink, eyes bright with mischief, "So where are you taking me to celebrate?"


	2. Does anyone sleep normally?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Harry finally get an assignment to run on their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: chapter 2 one week later as promised! Thank you to all who followed and reviewed. I am so glad you're all excited to read :) This one has some fun Harry & Ron Auror bros time ha and the little mystery plot gets introduced, although rather vaguely. More to come on that! Enjoy!

Early morning sunlight pierced through the gap in the chocolate brown curtains Mrs. Weasley had coerced Harry into hanging so he wouldn't be living, in her words, 'like a squatter in his own home.' Eyes still gritty from a sleep much too short for the full day of work ahead of him, Harry swatted at his blaring alarm and flipped back the coverlet, grazing his feet along the smooth hardwood floor and stretching his arms skyward, his joints popping in the process. He scratched his morning scruff, like sandpaper against his hands, and stood with a yawn, shuffling towards the loo.

After rinsing the soap from his hands, drying the excess water on his pants, he pulled on a pair of sweats and a worn t-shirt, and stepped into socks and trainers. The soles of his shoes squeaked slightly as he moved about, sliding his wand into its holster and exiting his flat. He walked briskly towards a nearby park he'd happened upon during the first weeks after he'd moved into his flat the previous year. Although he'd never thought he'd become one of those people that rose early to run before their workday, he'd found the early mornings a way to relax himself before the stresses of a day at among the Aurors pressed in, and the fresh air was welcome, considering many days were spent in the underground bowels of the Ministry. Of course he and the other newly admitted Aurors got out on plenty of assignments, it was rather unpredictable when one would come up. Although he certainly wouldn't envy the celebrity that came with it, Harry sometimes envied the fact that once she made the team, which he was sure she would, much of Ginny's time would be spent up in the air, surrounded by the blue skies and rolling hills of Wales.

Harry entered the small park and began his circuit at a slow pace and sighed, thinking of Ginny. They'd spent a good deal of time last night _celebrating_ on the couch in his flat, and then once their stomachs begged for sustenance, very loudly, they'd embarked on a quest for a different type of celebration…one that could occur in front of the general population. A grin broke across his face at the thought of Ginny, and with that, Harry pushed into a steady rhythm, feet smacking the concrete as he rounded the duck pond, currently devoid of its feathered friends, and surrendered himself to the serenity of his routine.

Three quarters of an hour later, Harry was freshly showered, fed, and watered – ready to floo into the Ministry for his shift. He stopped spinning, and took in the office, with its carefully organized cubicles forming a grid across the unmemorable grey-green carpet. Although those who had worked the night shift were still about, every month that came between the present and the end of the war involved less late night emergencies involving dark magic, which meant the graveyard shift, while murder on one's sleep schedule, was a fairly simple affair, the main complaint being the often boring nature of evenings passed in the quiet halls of the Ministry. The days still retained a busy reality, which was Harry's usual shift, and began at nine on the dot…which was about four minutes from now.

Waving to coworkers when appropriate, Harry made his way toward his sparsely decorated cubicle, sliding his still stiff with newness satchel into the space between his chair and the desk legs. Stepping out into the waking office, Harry claimed the necessary elements of his morning cup of tea and reentered his workspace and sat down, his rolling chair creaking slightly with the force and weight. At exactly nine, Ron strode in, robes billowing in his wake as he slumped into his desk across the narrow aisle between their cubicles. With a sigh, the red head tossed his bag into the corner, nearly upending his wastebasket in the process, "Bugger all I hate mornings."

Harry laughed, "Today was a bit of a struggle since I was up half the night with your sister."

Ron grimaced, "Mate. That is a completely unnecessary piece of information."

Furrowing his brow as he tried to guess what Ron meant, Harry sipped his tea, before nearly spitting it across his surprisingly neat worktop, "Bloody hell Ron, not up all night like _that_. I was under the impression we had an arrangement."

Searching through his desk drawers, Ron's voice was slightly muffled as he answered, " _I_ know we have an arrangement, but the way you go all loopy around my sister I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot."

Harry shot his best mate a look, who emerged from his search with a half crumbled biscuit protruding from his mouth, " _I_ go all loopy? Have you forgotten the Christmas fiasco of '98? I know I never will."

Brushing crumbs from the front of his robes, Ron answered, "First, that was literally last year, and second, I was half pissed and hopped up on Mum's Christmas pudding and consequently cannot be held accountable for anything I said about Hermione."

"I hardly think the fact that you become a smarmy, talkative git when drunk should be an automatic out," Harry grumbled.

Before Ron had a chance to answer, Robards blustered over to their section, "If you two hens are finished, I've an assignment for you to handle." The Head Auror didn't pause for an answer, merely continued on the path to his office, knowing they would follow. Harry raised his dark brows at Ron as they both stood and walked briskly toward the open door that beckoned.

The two Aurors entered the office, Ron shutting the door behind his back before Robards had a chance to ask. With a nod, the older man gestured for them to sit in the chairs before his large dark wood desk littered with notes, case files, and an overflowing inbox, "I believe I told you both I thought you were ready to head up an investigation?"

Ron nodded and Harry answered with a low, "Yes sir."

Robards picked up a file that sat on his desk beneath his teacup, only the dregs left, and tossed it to the front of his desk, "Ever been to Shetland?"

Harry grabbed the file and started skimming the first page, "Can't say I have."

Ron peered over Harry's shoulder, "Me neither, sir."

"Not for long boys. Take a look at that file and then come see me before you head out." With that, he pulled a missive from his inbox and perched his reading glasses on his nose. Considering themselves dismissed, Ron and Harry left the room, closing the door, the off white blinds shuttering and the handle sliding into place with a click.

By eleven, the two Aurors touched down on the apparition point dictated by the coordinates Robards had scratched out on a biscuit crumb stained yellow pad on his desk. With only a slight stumble on the landing, Harry took in the landscape: rolling green hills, blue skies, dark waves crashing against the rocky shoreline, _too bad I didn't wish for a three-day weekend locked in my flat with only Ginny and an endless supply of treacle tart this morning._ He turned, and with a smirk, offered Ron a hand up, who pushed off the turf himself and answered Harry with a gesture he never dared to use in front of his mother.

As they picked their way down the small hill, Ron kicked a stone in his path and scratched his head thoughtfully, "So, this all seems very…"

"Weird?" Harry cut in, wading through a bushy patch of pink and yellow wildflowers, regulation boots necessitating some floral casualties.

Ron laughed, "Well yeah, and I'm glad to be on our own-"

" _Finally."_

"And I'm not saying a bunch of men all waking up in the middle of the night isn't something to wonder about…" Ron trailed off, stumbling over the uneven dirt at the base of the hill, before gesturing with his head toward a gravel road that seemed to lead to the small village Robards had described.

"Maybe they've just got indigestion or need to take a pi-," Harry began, only to be interrupted by Ron, "I think this is it mate, want to go to each person in the file together?"

"Sounds like a plan," Harry answered, pulling out his small black notebook and striding towards a small, squat inn on the corner of the age worn, cobbled street.

Hours later, freshly showered, Harry flooed from the Auror locker room in the Ministry to the Burrow and entered the kitchen, where Molly Weasley was preparing stew and a light salad for dinner. He stepped around the table and placed a quick kiss on her cheek, "Is Gin around?"

Molly patted the side of his face, "Yes dear, she came in from flying a little while ago, said she wanted to freshen up before dinner. Go on up."

Harry began his trek up the creaky stairs, then turned and leaned over the banister, "Is it alright if she comes out with me, Ron, and Hermione tonight? Or were you planning on having time with her and Mr. Weasley?"

Pausing mid stir, Molly wiped her hands on her patched apron, "Oh I always want my babies. But you go ahead and take her out." Then as an afterthought she added, perhaps not intending for Harry to hear, "It has been a while since Arthur and I have had the night alone to-"

Before she continued that train of thought, Harry bounded up the stairs and into the safety of Ginny's room, "It's a shame, if you'd come in about two minutes earlier I would've been topless."

Harry smirked, sitting down on her haphazardly made bed with a creak of the springs, "A right shame. Would've avoided hearing about Molly-Arthur quality time too."

Ginny slammed her armoire closed and scoffed, hands on hips, "You mean to tell me my parents are going to," she gulped, " _do it_ while I'm in the house?"

Deciding to spare Ginny the likely true reality that they had 'done it' many times while less than alone in the house, if the number of Weasley offspring was anything to go by, Harry shook his head, "Nah, I asked about taking you out with Ron and Hermione tonight, and then she said something about having dinner alone with your dad."

"That's still gross," Ginny answered, a sour look on her face as she slipped on her sandals, "So where are you taking me?"

"Just some divey pub Ron is obsessed with since I took him one night after work," Harry answered, watching Ginny's loose locks cascade down her shoulders as she leaned forward to pull the strap over her heel. She stood, slightly red from the blood rushing to her head after being upside down, "Sounds good. I'd like to try lager again. I hear the Harpies are big on post win parties." With a wink, she practically galloped down the stairs and into the kitchen, giving Molly a peck on the cheek and vaulting out the back door, "Coming Harry?"

Smiling brightly, he shook his head affectionately and followed his girlfriend's path before apparating them both to the spot he and Ron had picked.


	3. Generally, everyone wants to stay alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione have a night out in Muggle London. Plus, Ron and Harry get some interesting developments on their case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of proud of myself for getting this done today. I was afraid it wouldn't be done in time. Yay two Hinny fics on Harry's birthday :) Hope you enjoy. Thanks for all the follows, reviews, etc. they're very encouraging and wonderful to receive.

Instantly, Harry and Ginny appeared in the dingy, dark alley next to Ron's new favorite place to eat – something he said often and loudly before begging everyone present to never mention it in front of his mum. Entwining their fingers, Harry tugged Ginny towards the busy street, waiting in the shadows until they could make a seamless entrance into the flow of traffic that didn't have passersby wondering what exactly the young couple had been _doing_ in the dark alleyway. Ginny released his hand and wrapped her arm around his waist, leaning into his side as his arm encircled her bare, sun kissed shoulders, "I'm positively _famished_. I may need an extra order of chips."

Harry chuckled, placing a kiss on her head as he ushered her inside the dim and bustling pub, eyes peeled for Ron and Hermione, "I have no arguments there…I just may do the same."

"Copycat."

"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery," Harry quoted loftily, taking the lead after he spotted their waiting party sipping drinks with heads bowed close together, Ginny's hand slipping back into his easily.

As they neared, Hermione blushed and pulled back from Ron a bit, although his hand remained on her knee beneath the table, his face flushed with laughter and what appeared to be his second pint, "Long time no see Harry."

Shaking his head in mock sadness, "Ah yes. Very true. It's been nearly-," he paused to pull out the old Prewett watch dramatically, "forty-five minutes."

Ron nodded glumly, "Eternity, that."

Ginny snickered, "If you two would like a moment alone, feel free, but I'm starved, so go snog outside."

Both boys scrunched their faces in disgust, Ron exclaiming, "Ugh Ginny, you've nearly ruined my appetite."

At this Harry looked affronted, placing a hand to his chest, "I'll have you know, Mr. Weasley, I am an _excellent_ snog."

Hermione leaned forward to take a prim sip of her scotch and soda, ice clinking against the glass, "Well you are his Weezy, Ron."

Harry narrowed his eyes behind his classes as Ginny broke down in full guffaws, but Ron was indignant, an angry blush creeping up his neck, "You're just jealous because I'm clearly his favorite."

Wiping tears from her eyes, Ginny stole a sip of Ron's drink and took a deep breath, placing her hand over his, "If you want me to step aside, family comes first."

As she collapsed in giggles, Hermione finally lost her composure, slumping down in her chair, cheeks going red and occasional squeaks emanating from her throat. Ron folded his arms and looked toward Harry, who he was confident would take his side in this character assassination, only to observe his _ex_ -best mate biting his cheeks and practically vibrating with suppressed laughter, "I see how it is. Make fun of Ron night is it?"

Smoothing down her hair as much as possible, Hermione righted herself and took a fortifying sip of her drink, "Sorry Ron, I'll get the next round to make up? Fish and chips all?"

Her three companions nodded, handing over rumbled bills for their entrees. Sighing with false dejection, Ron handed her his empty glass, shooting a look at Ginny as she wiped the lingering foam from her upper lip, "Sounds fine Hermione, make sure Ginny the lush gets her _own_."

After elbowing her way through the other patrons, Hermione returned, pocketbook lighter, with promises that the barkeep guaranteed their meals and drinks would be out soon. As the group settled down, an older waitress with frazzled greying hair and a disinterested expression delivered their drinks and left without a word. Harry accepted his chilled glass gratefully, gulping down a few sips and sighing contentedly, "So, Ron tell you about the case?"

Hermione shook her head and looked toward Ron, who continued, "You mean _our_ case?"

Both girls perked up and Ginny asked excitedly, "You're heading up a case yourselves?"

Harry nodded as Ginny placed a kiss on his cheek and Ron elaborated, "It's already been in local papers, so we can tell you some…bunch of male villagers in Shetland all waking up in the middle of the night for no reason."

Picking up the thread of the story, Harry continued, "So we headed over there this afternoon and talked with some of them, got witness statements from their wives and girlfriends."

The conversation was temporarily delayed as their food arrived and their mouths became more occupied with flaky battered fish and delightfully salty chips than relating the details of the case. Eventually, Hermione picked up the thread of their earlier conversation, "So, have you any ideas yet?"

Ron, mouth full, shook his head, but deferred to Harry for a verbal answer, a judgment call that was widely appreciated. Harry sipped his lager, "I don't think we've got a full picture yet…the information we've got as of now just sounds like they're all eating too close to bedtime."

Hermione hummed thoughtfully, "Maybe you should look into the local lore and myths?"

Ron swallowed and wiped his hands on his crumpled napkin, "That's the plan for tomorrow. Except with more of a focus on documented events that had similar fact patterns…then we'll move to the mythology of Shetland."

Eyeing Ron longingly enough to make his sister uncomfortable, Hermione cleared her throat, "Well this is a big week for all four of us then!"

Ginny clapped her hands excitedly, "Very true my friend. I vote another round of drinks to celebrate!"

A cheer of assent rang around the table as Harry signaled for another round and pulled the dessert list toward him, eager to revisit the pub's widely popular bread pudding, "Glad we have the day off tomorrow, mate."

Ron grinned, "Aye. I plan on eating my weight in sticky toffee pudding."

The next morning Ginny woke up with a faint headache and blurry vision, _is this Harry's life?_ She blinked slowly and rubbed the grit from her eyes, stretching her arms and flipping onto her back, only to come into contact with another body. _Bloody hell._

Harry moaned, "D'you have to punch me Gin?" He paused, eyes shooting open in alarm, "Bloody hell why are you here?"

"If I didn't know that you simply fear my mother's wrath I'd be highly offended," Ginny drawled, smacking her lips, "I'm thirsty."

Scratching at his bare chest, _bare chest?_ Harry gradually pushed himself into a sitting position and filled the glass on his bedside table with a quick _aguamenti_ , before handing it over to Ginny. She accepted it easily, and spoke with a calmness that juxtaposed strangely with her statement, "Mum's going to murder me."

Harry nodded, sliding his glasses onto the bridge of his nose clumsily, voice still gravely with sleep, "At least we'll die together."

"I didn't even get to do anything scandalous," Ginny sighed, swallowing the last of her water and settling back into the pillows.

Glancing over at the clock on his bedside table, Harry blinked, then hovered over her, "Very funny. Get out."

Ginny eyed the window, taking in the early morning light thoughtfully, "Yeah, maybe she's not up."

Harry let himself drop down onto her chest, wrapping his arms around her middle, muttering into her ribs, "That is clearly not the kind of day we're having."

"I can _hope_ Mr. Negative," Ginny drawled, carding her fingers through his hair, eyes drifting closed in contentment, despite the haranguing that awaited her at home.

Nuzzling her belly button, Harry groaned, "Seriously if you don't leave right now."

Laughter rumbled through her chest, "Your words say go but your body says _stay and make sweet-"_

Harry sat up abruptly and gripped her face between his hands, "Yes. But I would like to remain in possession of the equipment necessary to eventually follow through on our flirty banter, so get out."

Ginny pressed her smile to his and vaulted out of the bed, picking up her abandoned _trousers? Yikes_ , and disappeared into green flames.

After spending his day off with Andromeda and Teddy, sightseeing in Muggle London, taking particular delight in sharing a day at the zoo with friendly faces rather than angry relatives. The little metamorphmagus had giggled with delight from within his pram, particularly enjoying the tall, gangly giraffes reaching for crunchy leaves with their long tongues. After their adventures, Andromeda had taken her grandson home, and Harry had devoured some leftovers from Molly Weasley's most recent Sunday dinner triumph, before collapsing on the couch with a package of biscuits and listening to an old Ballycastle versus Puddlemere match on the wireless.

Shaking himself from his musings, Harry refocused on the text in front of him, before pushing it aside with a huff – the previous case had involved only women, and turned out to be a plot to oust the mayor of a small seaside fishing village, no dark magic at work. As he looked up to ask if Ron had any better luck, his red haired partner snatched a flying missive away from his temple and unfolded it, "Looks like we've had a development – more strangeness in Shetland. They didn't just wake up this time."

Tugging the parchment from Ron's freckled hands, Harry scanned it quickly, "Head over then?"

"Sounds good to me, mate," Ron answered, straightening out his work robes and sliding the worn leather strap of his bag over his head and striding toward the apparition point, "Off we go."

Soon enough, the two Aurors entered one of the local bed and breakfasts, Scollay and Cogle's, and rang the bell displayed on the check in desk. A middle-aged man emerged from the back room, dusting his flour covered hands on his dark apron, "How can I help ya?"

Ron spoke, "We're from the Auror office. Got a call this morning."

"Oh yes. That was from me. I'm Connor Scollay. Me n' my wife run this place together. She's just stepped out to pick up some fresh fish from the market. Come on in, make yourselves at home."

Connor lead them toward a cozy parlor, decorated with knit blankets and matching puffy couch and armchairs gathered around a crackling fireplace. With a flick of his dark wood wand, their host summoned a tea service, complete with fresh baked scones, and settled it onto the driftwood table in front of them. After all three had prepared their tea to their likings, Harry prompted, "So you woke up again last night?"

Taking a sip and settling his cup back onto its saucer, Connor nodded gravely, "Aye. 'cept this time I wasn't in bed."

Ron and Harry schooled their features, but shared a quick glance, before Ron asked, "Were you the only one?"

Shaking his head, Connor continued, "Nah. There were a few of us that all woke up at th' same time. There may've been more, since we don't all live right near each other."

Harry pulled out his notepad and started scratching down notes, "Why didn't the others call in too?"

Connor paused spreading jam on his still warm scone, "Probably afraid of looking crazy. I'm more afraid of looking dead."

Ron placed his tea down on the side table, "Can you give us the names of the others?"


	4. Let's see where this goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny gets her shot with the Harpies and has a chat with Molly about her life. Elsewhere, Ron and Harry toil away on their case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late, but traveling and a lack of access to wifi put a damper on my plans to post. But its here!

Ginny clutched the lovingly polished handle of her broom, swooping between two opposing chasers, lifting one fist to swipe the driving rain from her eyes. She focused her eyes on her fellow chaser hopefuls, watching for an opening to receive a pass from below, whipping out of the path of an oncoming bludger as she grasped the quaffle, tucking it close to her side and rocketing off toward the goals without taking a breath. Droplets of rain mixed with salty sweat sliding down her temples and her neck, snaking down her spine, chilling her skin. Executing a perfect sloth grip roll, she shot her gaze toward the left hoop dramatically, catching the keeper's eye. The brunette – _Brenda? –_ gradually slid toward Ginny's right to block the shot, only for the red head to sink a goal effortlessly through the center hoop.

There was one slot open for a chaser on the first string, and two to be filled on the reserve team. Based on her performance for the past four days, Ginny was cautiously hopeful – a term that had caused Harry to scoff and roll his eyes when she used it in this context – that she would at least make the reserves. Tucking a stray bit of waterlogged hair behind her freckled ear, Ginny rejoined the hawkshead formation she and her temporary partners had chosen as a sort of default to work from.

Already mentally preparing for their next play, Ginny was caught off guard by Gwenog Jones' shrill, two fingered whistle, but responded quickly, squinting her eyes through the misty air and now drizzly sky. Jones gestured for the players to descend, a clipboard secured safely underneath her waterproofed Harpy green cloak, "Alright you lot, I think we've seen enough," the older woman barked, gesturing between herself and the trainers, "Head back to the locker rooms and clean up. Your evening is yours to use as you please, but report back here eight o'clock sharp, rain or shine. You'll have our decisions by then."

The other girls started descending, and Ginny lagged behind, waiting until the last Harpy hopeful entered the gold and green locker room, before shifting her grip and rapidly ascending, eyes tearing from the speed. She flew in lazy loops, marveling at how much her life had changed over the last year…and how close she was to her dream. Letting her fingers slacken on the handle, she leaned back and shook out her hair, the end of her tight braid just brushing the tail of her broom. Rolling her shoulders, she refocused and leaned forward sharply, sending her broom into a drastic tilt, screaming towards the muddy pitch. At the last second, she pulled back, the toes of her boots dragging through the puddles, the water flicking up in her wake. A carefree laugh left her throat before she closed her eyes and took a deep, contended breath. No matter what happened, she knew she'd done all she could. That's not to say she wouldn't be disappointed if things didn't go her way, but she'd learn from it and move forward… _but I'd rather not have to learn from it…_

Ginny was jarred from her thoughts by a low rumbly call from the stands, "Nice flying Weasley."

She opened her eyes and saw Gwenog Jones lounging in one of the front seats, muscled arms folded across her chest, her dark eyes sparking with intelligence, "Not just that – although it was – I mean the whole week."

Hovering her broom closer to the retired beater, Ginny's fingers flexed nervously, but she otherwise maintained a cool appearance, knowing Jones was likely assessing her still, "Thank you. I appreciated the opportunity to play."

Gwenog nodded, her close cropped curls ruffling in the breeze, "You didn't hear it from me, but I expect you'll have another opportunity to appreciate very soon."

Ginny's self control failed, her chocolate brown eyes widened and mouth dropped open as the captain chuckled, "See you in the morning Weasley. Bright and early. People who fly nicely should expect to stay after for fittings and a headshot for the programs."

After the red head nodded wordlessly, Gwenog winked, "So if you know anyone who did, let 'em know and tell them I said congratulations."

As soon as the older woman disappeared inside the clubhouse, Ginny let out a loud whoop, taking a victory lap around the pitch.

The next evening, just as the sun was setting over the Burrow, stray gnomes trotting towards their earthen tunnels, Ginny appeared with a 'pop,' before sprinting towards ramshackle home. She burst through the back door with a shout, causing Molly Weasley to toss a mashed potato filled spoon toward the staircase and Harry to leap backwards from the sideboard, spilling tea down his front. The serving spoon slowly slid down the wall and landed with a thump that shook the Burrow's occupants from their daze, with Mrs. Weasley being the first to regain her voice, "Well? What's got you shrieking like a banshee?"

Despite her inquiry, the matriarch's sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks indicated she had more than a clue. Ginny tossed her rucksack to the side, "Given the news I got this morning it might be more accurate to say like a Harpy!"

Harry and Mrs. Weasley let out simultaneous cries of victory, sweeping Ginny up in a triumphant embrace, the former laughing with relief and glee, the latter crying from pride and joy. Ginny tucked her head in the gap between their shoulders, "I _did_ it."

Mrs. Weasley released her death grip to start whipping up a cake to have after supper to 'properly celebrate' and Harry tightened his arms around Ginny's waist, spinning her around, before laying a blistering kiss on her lips.

Soon, Molly was shooing the couple from the kitchen, ordering them to inform the remaining Weasleys – and Hermione – of the wonderful news and the fact that their presence was expected for that evening's merriment.

The following morning, Ginny trotted down the stairs, tying her dressing gown around her as she hopped down the last two steps, "Morning mum."

Molly looked up from the Sunday crossword, her tea cooling by her elbow, "Morning dear. There's porridge on the stove."

Ginny bustled about fixing her morning tea before stretching on her toes to reach the bowls tucked in the upper shelves. As she lowered her arm Molly took a slow sip of her tea and spoke, eyes never leaving the paper in front of her, "How was your evening with Harry last week?"

Caught off guard, Ginny dropped back onto her heels, her hand slapping the bowl to the counter with a _thump_ , "It was lovely mum. We went out with Ron and Hermione in Muggle London."

Her mother hummed, setting the _Prophet_ down casually… _too casually_. Forcing herself to remain calm, Ginny ladled out the warm gruel into her bowl, stirring two healthy spoons of brown sugar in as she let out a slow breath and Molly continued her questions, "Ah yes, and then you came home?"

 _Stay calm Ginny._ Carrying her breakfast over to the table, Ginny settled herself in across from Molly and answered with what she hoped was a calm voice, "No. I went back to Harry's for a bit."

Molly quirked a brow, "I suppose a bit means the whole night?"

"Nothing happened mum, I promise. We just fell asleep. Aside from the fact that we're…not… _you know_ , we were both too knackered anyway."

Molly sighed, "I figured. Harry's much too honorable."

Ginny scoffed. _I know all too well._

With a small smirk reminiscent of the twins, Mrs. Weasley continued, "You both just need to be careful about _appearances_. You don't want to seem a scarlet woman, and imagine when you're well known as a Quidditch player."

Simultaneously rolling her eyes and blushing, Ginny answered, "I'm hardly well known yet, just a rookie. Plus we both know Skeeter will call me whatever she thinks will sell headlines. And sending Harry into a strop will be a bonus." _No good dirty hag of a – no that's too mean to say about hags_.

Molly opened her mouth to respond, but Ginny cut her off, "Besides, Harry's not about to let me become anything even _close_ to a scarlet woman." _Sadly._

"Well good. I'm glad _one_ of you has their head on straight. And if I know my daughter, which I do, you'll be the star soon enough. Never could take being second place for long." Molly patted Ginny's hand and stood, flicking her wand to send her dishes to the sink, setting them to wash and stepped out the back door, bending over to pick up her egg basket, heading toward the chicken coop.

Ginny pulled the half-finished crossword toward herself and tucked in to her breakfast, enjoying her last free day before training kicked off.

Ron and Harry had initially started working like civilized adults settled comfortably, if a little stiffly, at his small kitchen table, surrounded by stacks of folklore texts and historical accounts of Shetland's magical culture, as well as the seven statements they'd taken on their last visit. Not even two hours later, both were sprawled across Harry's living room and Ron had managed to work his way through three packets of crisps, four of Molly's fresh biscuits for her 'hard working boys,' and had just suggested ordering takeaway from someplace that delivered.

Harry waved his parchment filled with messy notes, hoping to dry out the tea he'd slopped over the side of his cup and sighed, "Well I'm hungry. If we didn't have nine years of friendship behind us, I'd be shocked that you were though."

"Oi! I have a healthy appetite," Ron shot back, falsely affronted.

"Don't get you're knickers in a twist," Harry chuckled and shuffled off to fetch the menus the landlady had left on his counter when he moved in. Not lifting his eyes from the virtual trip around the world for the palate, Harry shuffled back into the room just as Ron let out a shout, "I've got it mate!"

"What? You've finally decided if you prefer meat lovers or supreme?" Harry teased. His partner didn't answer, instead whipping out one of the many maps they'd checked out from the Ministry archives and beginning to place little sticky arrows across one of the more detailed maps. Hermione had given them various supplies she deemed 'invaluable' as office-warming presents when they'd joined – and if she asked this was definitely _not_ the first time they'd even remembered they existed.

Harry dropped the menus into his vacated seat and squatted down next to Ron, who sat with his legs extended underneath the coffee table, back pressed against the couch for support, "What've you got then?"

Ron scratched his scalp with one hand, placing the last neon sticker on the map and grunting in approval, "I was reviewing the witness statements we took and was about to make fun of the bloke who woke up naked on his gran's porch when I realized what's connecting all of their locations. Take a look."

After accepting the proffered map, Harry's eyes darted over the course Ron had charted, then picked up Connor statement, dragging a finger from Scollay and Cogle's to the field where he'd come to, "They're all moving northwest."

Nodding with a triumphant grin, Ron answered, "Aye. Towards the forest."


	5. Pieces falling into place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Harry get some important new information on their case and bring in a specialist. Ginny finishes her first intensive training and comes home, making Harry's week even better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly late on the update, but you're being rewarded with over 3,000 words (my longest ever!) Big developments on the mystery and a nice long bit with Harry and Ginny together. Thank you for all the follows/favorites/reviews/kudos :)

Harry kicked off his trainers, which landed with two dull thuds underneath the bench Hermione had shoved in his front hall so he's stop 'taking off his shoes like an animal.' _That plan went well._ With a small chuckle only he heard, Harry strode down the hall, turning the shower taps on with high pitched squeaks, testing the water to find the exact right setting between 'Help I can no longer feel my toes' and 'Oh God when did a volcano erupt in my loo.' Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, he noted there was just enough time for a quick rinse and a couple slices of toast before Robards would surpass his usual growly state and venture into Fluffy territory. _I doubt that flute from Hagrid would be helpful…_

After a brief shower where the sweat and grime from his daily run slid from his body down the drain in a tiny whirlpool, Harry wrapped a comfortingly downy towel around his slim waist and padded toward his chest of drawers, leaving damp footprints in his wake. As he stepped into his pants, Harry spotted the postcard-sized photo of him and Ginny at her last birthday that Molly had given him last Christmas, along with the customary jumper. Photo Ginny shot him a flirtatious wink, which caused him to blush and pull up his pants quickly, and shrug into his customary dress shirt, face still flaming when she turned back to lay a kiss on photo Harry's cheek. _She's not even here you bloody fool_. Rolling his eyes, the Auror rummaged around his sock drawer, thinking about where Ginny _really_ was, and had been for nearly a week. _With no contact whatsoever._

She had made the Harpies – _first string_ – following an intensive series of tryouts nearly two weeks ago, and after a short break, was summoned back to Holyhead for the training set. Apparently, the seclusion was intended to contribute to physical fitness, focus, and team building, which Harry certainly understood, _but that doesn't mean I have to like it…_

The good news was that today was his last Ginny-less day, and she had promised to spend the whole evening tomorrow with him – _alone._ With a grin that could only be induced by thoughts of a certain red headed chaser, Harry tied his laces with a definitive tug and wandered out to the kitchen. Just as he pulled the jam – black currant – from it's place in the refrigerator door, a silvery albatross hovered at his shoulder, Robards' voice echoing through the otherwise quiet flat, "Potter, get yourself down here, pronto. There's been a development on your case."

Harry dropped the jar back into its spot on the shelf with a clatter and shot a quick message off to Ron, just in case. Before the stag had even disappeared from sight, Harry was already spinning away into a swirl of green flames.

Coming to a halt in the Auror Office's fireplace, Harry strode towards his desk, rifling in his pack for his small black notebook, tucking that, along with a ballpoint pen, into the inner folds of his robes. Without pausing, he tossed the bag onto his chair and continued toward Robards' office, Ron jogging up behind him, slightly out of breath, "Got both the messages mate, at nearly the same time, so I couldn't hear much more than 'get down here _right now_.'"

With a chuckle, Harry straightened out his robes and glanced toward his best mate, whose hair was still dripping, leaving wet patches on his shoulders, "That's the gist, at least as far as I know."

Ron nodded, flicking his wand to dry his hair and robes somewhat, "Ah. Excellent. I do my best work going into the situation blind."

Smirking Harry put his hand on the doorknob, "Only I know how much you're not joking."

As the door slid open, Ron laughed and muttered under his breath, "'cept maybe Hermione."

Before Harry could answer beyond a grin, Director Robards barked from behind his desk, "You two finished chatting?"

Both nodded, and with near simultaneous _yes sirs_ the duo took their places behind chairs positioned in front of the cluttered desk. Robards shuffled some non-descript papers around on his desk, sipping his now tepid tea, "You two've some visitors. Interview room three. Seems they've seen the perpetrator."

Ron's eyebrows shot up as Harry asked, "Was it a man or-"

Robards uncharacteristically appeared as if he was stifling a smile, "It'll be better coming straight from the source, which is Mr and Mrs Tulloch."

Harry narrowed his eyes but nodded, holding the door open as Ron exited behind him, "That was ominous."

"I don't like when Robards smiles at me," Ron agreed, pausing outside the interview room. Harry chuckled in agreement, "We go?"

"We go."

The partners opened the door, slipping in one behind the other. Ron set about preparing tea for himself and Harry, as the latter offered refreshments to the harried looking couple seated stiffly across the silvery table. The husband – Mr Robert Tulloch – shook his head, eyes darting toward the smooth surface of the metallic table as he ran a finger along the side with a _squeak_. Mrs Tulloch assented with a strained smile, and nearly whispered, "Two sugars please."

Ron nodded, levitating a tray carrying the three cups and a small plate of biscuits over to the group. After everyone had settled in, testing their tea with quiet _slurps_ , Harry broke the silence, "So Director Robards said you'd seen the perpetrator Mr and Mrs Tulloch?"

Mr Tulloch cleared his throat gruffly, speaking with a low rumble, "Aye. You can call us Robert and Aileen, Auror Potter."

"Then Ron and Harry are fine for us too," Ron offered, a reassuring smile on his lips as he nudged the biscuits toward the couple.

Robert took one of the proffered baked goods, nervously fiddling with the ginger snap, crumbles falling to the table in small plumes, "We- I should say Aileen saw… _it._ "

"It?" Harry and Ron asked nearly simultaneously. _We spend too much time together,_ Harry thought, stifling a chuckle _._

Aileen broke in, voice strong despite her slightly trembling hands that held her cup and saucer with a white knuckled grip, "Have you ever heard of a trow?"

The two Aurors shared a quick glance as Harry readied his notebook and pen, "Let's say we haven't."

Late that afternoon, Harry and Ron made the trek to the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, looking for a certain newly hired employee with a talent for in depth research, _she'll never be rid of us_ , Harry thought with a small grin. Harry slumped into a nondescript chair in the stuffy waiting area as Ron inquired after Hermione at the department secretary's desk.

The red head strode toward Harry and took a seat, absentmindedly flipping through a six month old copy of _The Quibbler_ if the Krampus article teaser was any indication. Pausing his fidgeting Ron looked toward his best mate, "I could just go back there, but I don't want to be _that_ boyfriend."

Harry smirked, eyes mischievous, "Look at you being all thoughtful. Who knew?"

Ron scowled, "I'll have you know I'm a right wonderful boyfriend – "

"It's true Harry," Hermione broke in suddenly, gesturing for them to follow her to the back, "He even brought me lunch last Wednesday."

This time, it was the young Potter who scowled, "You were supposed to bring _me_ lunch on Wednesday."

"Well _you_ don't snog me, and they only had one special left," Ron replied, unrepentant.

Hermione chuckled as she conjured two extra chairs in her smallish workspace, "I'm telling Ginny you're putting the moves on her boyfriend."

"Apparently I picked the wrong Weasley as my partner if snogging is the price for a regular meal," Harry grumbled good-naturedly, flicking Ron's rapidly reddening ear.

" _Anyway_ , we are here on actual Auror business, not just a midday 'take the mickey out of Ron' session," Ron cut in, kicking Harry's shin none too gently.

Before Harry got his chance to return the favor with a shove to the ribs, Hermione cleared her throat imperiously, "Boys."

Both froze slightly shamefaced and settled down to face her attentively. Whether genuine or to placate Hermione wasn't quite sure, but she'd learned to take what she got. "So official business then?" she prompted, readying a quill and parchment on her immaculate desk, only slightly jostling the picture of the trio from the first summer after the war.

Ron nodded, beginning the explanation, skimming over the parts already related in an _unofficial_ capacity, while Hermione took copious notes and Harry added in important bits Ron forgot. The bushy-haired witch paused, scratching her nose, a stripe of ink spreading across her cheek in the process, as she reviewed the parchment in front of her, "This is all quite fascinating, but I'm not sure where I come in."

"Well that's what we knew before this morning, but there've been developments," Harry continued, Ron nodding in assent. Hermione stepped out of her cubicle toward the office tea service, preparing three cups and levitated them back toward her desk, "So. What happened today?"

"Trows. It's trows bringing the men out at night," Ron answered succinctly.

Hermione's dark eyes widened in simultaneous shock and intellectual intrigue, "In Shetland? There was a sizable clan there in the past, but they haven't been heard from in nearly a hundred years. The academic community assumed they'd died off or migrated."

Harry smirked, "Well, apparently not."

"Have you made contact with the trows? How do you know they're involved?" Hermione asked, pulling her hair into a low ponytail, quill clenched between her teeth.

"We have two witnesses, but no direct contact yet. The woman, Mrs Tulloch, saw it first and woke her husband, who was already out of the bed," Ron supplied, placing his cup down with a clatter.

Hermione eyed the milky tea spattered on her desktop but brushed it aside, nodding for them to continue. As Ron swiped at the spill with his robe sleeve, Harry went on, "When Robert, Mr Tulloch that is, saw the trow, he shouted and spooked the bloke, and he left before they even had a chance to think."

Humming in thought, Hermione jotted down a few more notes, "Well, I'm off to the Ministry library. I'm woefully uneducated in trow lore and history. It's quite disgraceful."

Harry bit back a laugh and looked toward Ron, who smiled as well but there was a glazed look in his eyes Harry was _obligated_ as his best mate to mock at least five times before the week was out. _Or maybe I'll tuck it away for next time Ginny's home…_

"See Hermione – that's the Ginny face," Ron barked, snickering as Harry was called back to reality.

"You should've seen yourself not a minute ago mate, right gag inducing you are," Harry shot back, cheeks flushing.

"Don't you two have your own office to sit around and goof off in?" Hermione asked snootily, contrasted by the affectionate smile on her face.

As the two Aurors stood to leave, Hermione called out, "By the way, you have to get departmental approval from Director Robards before I can _officially_ assist the investigation."

Ron and Harry looked toward each other, sporting twin grimaces, before girding themselves up to deal with their ornery supervisor. _Hopefully he's already gone home for the night…_

Harry's wish was granted, and before long he had arrived in his own flat with a quiet 'pop.'

With a contented sigh, he leaned back against the closed door, _Friday._ His eyes shot open, a broad grin spreading across his face as he whispered, " _Ginny_."

Recalling their plans for the evening, he set about tidying himself and the flat, sniffing himself to determine whether a shower was indeed necessary – it was – and finally spending a nearly unacceptable amount of time deciding which of his mostly identical t-shirts Ginny would like best on him. _Put on your shirt and get over to the Burrow, you tosser._

After the internal pep talk, Harry glanced in the mirror one more time, ruffling his hair nervously, _she knows your hair is a train wreck arse,_ before apparating to the property line of the Weasley home.

At a fast clip, he trotted toward the back door, cutting around a few stray gnomes, and entered the house slightly out of breath with anticipation. Mrs Weasley looked up from the stovetop, a knowing glint in her eye, "She's just inside talking to Arthur dear. Go on and tell her you've arrived."

Harry nodded in assent, the corners of his mouth turning up unbidden as he strode toward the den, pausing to take her in before she noticed he'd arrived. Arthur saw him first and smirked, "I think someone's rather anxious to see you Ginny darling."

As Ginny turned, brow still furrowed in confusion, her face lit up, drinking in Harry's form. Mr. Weasley pressed his hands to his knees as he stood, patting Harry's bony shoulder, "Have a lovely night you two."

Blinking rapidly, Harry answered with an unintelligible grunt, his brain finally working up to speed enough to close the distance between him and Ginny, wrapping her in a tight embrace, his face tucked into her fiery tresses. Ginny gripped the waist of his shirt, nuzzling his chest, "Missed you."

Harry hummed in agreement, rubbing her back in long strokes, "Me too, Gin."

Ginny pulled away and placed a rather chaste kiss on his lips considering the long separation, "What shall we do this evening, my good sir?"

"Muggle London?"

Eyes twinkling, Ginny nodded, twining their fingers together and pulling him toward the back door, "We're off Mum, Dad!"

The older Weasleys appeared arm in arm and wished them a pleasant evening, waving them off in the late afternoon light.

Soon, they touched down in an unused alley Harry knew was camouflaged enough to ensure any passing muggles wouldn't see their random appearance. Hands still clasped, Harry tugged Ginny out of the side street, away from the smell of unidentified refuse that cluttered the pavement.

"I figured we could look around? We've never had a chance to browse this area before," Harry suggested, looking to Ginny for approval.

Ginny smiled encouragingly and followed close behind, "Maybe we can pick up dinner on the way home?"

"Perfection."

An hour later, the couple could be found in a small second hand store, cluttered with leather-bound books, vintage luggage and trunks peppered with stamps boasting the exotic places traveled, cloudy hurricane lamps, and Ginny's personal favorite – board games.

" _There are so many_ ," Ginny whispered excitedly, as she picked up another box, Mousetrap _,_ and shook Harry's arm emphatically to get his attention, "Look at _this_ one. You make-"

A tap on her lower back cut Ginny off from interrupting Harry's perusal of Cluedo – 'I would beat you so bad at this one, Weasley _'_ – "Excuse me, but you shouldn't get that one."

Ginny turned, only to find the upturned face of a young boy, no more than eight, with close cropped hair and an earnest expression on his face as he gestured to the game in her hand. "You don't want that one," he stated again with the utmost seriousness, "Mousetrap's pointless without all the pieces. I'm Nate."

Frowning in disappointment, Ginny replaced the box on the shelf and Harry looked over, "What about this one then Nate?"

The boy eyed the box contemplatively, "If it's just the two of you, it won't be much fun. Try this – its like four in a row, but better 'cause of the colors."

Harry was about to ask if Teddy would like the toy he'd found nearby – _Etch-a-Sketch?_ – when a woman's voice rang through the shop, "Nathaniel David, I'll put these puzzles right back on the shelf."

With a bright grin, Nate saluted the couple and raced toward the check out, and presumably his mother.

Ginny bit her lip, "So is this the one? Wait – they let _kids_ do operations?"

Chuckling, Harry stacked their purchases and followed Nate's path at a much slower pace, meandering toward the checkout, "It's not a real one m'dear."

"Oh. Well good. That would be awfully irresponsible."

Harry placed their purchases on the counter, "Too right."

"Can we come back and get more?" Ginny asked as the door smacked shut behind them. Harry smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, placing a kiss to her temple, "Sure thing, love."

Following a short walk in the twilight, they picked up a fresh pizza to share once they reached Harry's flat. Not an hour later Ginny was polishing off her third slice, her fists shooting upward in victory, "Trounced you again Potter!"

Harry stuck out his tongue, pulling another slice from the box – pepperoni – and reset the grid, "Best eight out of nine."

"Glutton for punishment you are," Ginny teased, dropping her first piece into the slot decisively, then propping her chin on her hand disinterestedly and gesturing for Harry to take his turn.

Eyeing the grid, Harry bit his lip in thought before choosing a place with much less confidence than his opponent, "I still say you're cheating."

Competitive silence descended as the gameplay proceeded, checker-like pieces clacking down the slats. Ginny paused, assessing the grid before sliding her disc in, "I propose an additional rule."

Harry quirked a brow, still mainly focused on blocking Ginny from connecting a third piece on the diagonal, "What's this rule?"

Much to Harry's chagrin, Ginny proceeded with her turn as if she'd known exactly what he would do ahead of time – _Am I that predictable?_ – and munched a stray crust of pizza, "You should have to remove an item of clothing every time I win."

Biting a fingernail in thought, Harry slid another piece in, then eyed his girlfriend, "Is that for both of us or?"

Another piece, "Does it matter? You stink at this game so I don't see it becoming an issue."

"I resent that. Is cocky the new Harpy strategy?" Another.

Ginny sipped her second butter beer as she slipped a piece into the grid, "It's not cocky if it's true."

Harry slid a piece in, _victory is mine_ , "I don't think it works that way, miss."

"Yes, yes it does. Now take off your shirt, _loser_."


	6. Moving forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron, Harry, and Hermione reunite as an investigative trio, Ginny and Harry spend an evening together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My posting day has moved to Mondays the last couple weeks (oops), but once classes start up again, it will probably return to Sunday nights.

"It's only fair that you do some of the work since I thought of it," Ron reasoned, punching the lift button, brushing breadcrumbs from his robes as they waited. Harry huffed, eyeing a nosy woman who worked in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, if the haphazard green ink stamps on her folders were any indication.

The lift arrived with a 'ding' and the odd trio entered, Harry whispering testily, "That hardly counts as doing _all_ the work, and plus I did most of the talking in Robards' office yesterday, so it's _your_ turn."

A tinny voice announced their arrival on level two 'The Department of Magical Law Enforcement' and the partners exited together as Ron answered back, "All that means is he is more used to dealing with you, likes you best even."

Harry rolled his eyes as Ron wiggled his brows in an attempt at being convincing. _Attempt_ was the key word as far as the young Potter was concerned, "Ron, it's _your_ turn and you know it, so just suck it up and ask Robards if your girlfriend can consult on the bloody case."

A throat cleared behind them imperiously, eliciting a yelp from Ron and a defeated moan from Harry. Slowly turning, the young aurors came face to face with the aforementioned supervisor, who smirked dangerously over the brim of his afternoon tea, "You two about ready to ask for my signature on the damn paperwork so we can get Granger down here and stop wasting time?"

Ron's mouth opened and closed wordlessly, as Harry reached to nick one of the forms from Neville's desk – _sorry Nev_ – and hand it over as instructed. The Director signed with a scratchy flourish and tapped it with his wand, presumably sending it off to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, "Spoke to Granger on the lift this morning. She explained everything. Should be down in a quarter of an hour." Robards eyed his timepiece suspiciously, then shook his head and looked up, "Well?"

"Oh, er- no. That's all, sir," Harry stuttered out, grabbing Ron's arm and tugging him away toward their cubicles.

Finally managing to get his wits back, Ron called out a loud, "Thanks," over his shoulder, _nearly_ causing the intimidating auror to smirk.

Just as Harry and Ron were settling down in one of the empty conference rooms with their interview and research notes, Hermione blustered in, a flurry of parchment scraps, quills, and leather bound tomes in her arms and hovering behind her, "I just got the notification that I've been approved. Of course I've been working on this since we talked."

Ron nodded, "And Robards said – "

"Oh yes, we had a chat this morning. Bit of a grump. But altogether not overly difficult to reason with," Hermione answered, spreading out her materials with meticulous organization, raising a brow at their tea stained and smudged notes.

Harry smirked at Ron's beguiled expression before turning his attention to Hermione, "What've you got so far then?"

Twisting her hair into a tight knot, then spearing it with a stray pencil, Hermione pulled a sheaf of parchment filled with cramped writing toward her, "As your eye witnesses have likely told you by now, trows tend to be short, shy, and what some would call visually unappealing."

"Kind of ugly you mean?" Ron interjected with a smirk, picking at a cuticle. Harry snorted.

"Ron, that's quite unkind," Hermione admonished snippily, " _Anyway,_ they live in mounds, similar to trolls, and only go out at night."

Harry nodded, furrowing his brow in thought, "Which all lines up with our information so far. But what do you know about possible _motives_?"

Hermione hummed, biting her lip and skimming over her notes, "I assume these are land dwellers, because _sea_ trows are more interested in women and copul-"

Clearing his throat desperately, Harry interrupted, "Yes, er, they haven't been interested in the women of the village, just the men who visit the pub regularly."

"But they're not drunk, " Ron put in helpfully, reviewing the witness statements rapidly, "Seems they all play in a band together."

Harry let out a 'whoop!' and poked a finger in Ron's face excitedly, " _You_ are fantastic."

"And _you're_ a sexy beast, but we shouldn't be talking like this in front of my girlfriend," Ron shot back, a blush working its way up his neck.

Shaking her head but smiling nonetheless, Hermione brushed a stray curl behind her ear, "We should double check and then bring this to Robards, yes?"

Ron and Harry sent her two thumbs up. As the latter stood to retrieve the original files, Ron swatted his bum, "Make it quick, yeah?"

Hermione sniggered as Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron, "Excuse you."

"You know our love can't be tamed Harry," Ron replied sending him a flirty wink and kicking his feet up on the vacated chair.

Hermione giggled, slicing a fresh lemon for her tea, "Harry, you must know by now Weasleys can't resist your bum."

Ron crossed his arms, scrunching his face in disgust, "That's just too far."

After apparating right outside the boundaries of the Burrow, Harry stretched his stiff back with a pop, _I forgot what a slave driver Hermione is._ Sun setting behind him, Harry plodded forward and hopped the fence, picking up speed as he neared the crooked house, until he was practically trotting. Pausing briefly to catch his breath, he heard shouting from within the cozy kitchen, one voice was most certainly Mrs. Weasley, the second some unidentified Weasley son. Pushing the door open he found an irate Molly and an uncharacteristically sheepish Charlie Weasley shunting a small lizard-like creature back into a covered basket, "Mum, I was watching it."

"You know how those things are, they shrink up so tiny and then it'll be running rampant in my kitchen," Molly volleyed back, setting a knife to slice carrots on a worn cutting board.

"It's just until I bring it over to Hagrid's!"

"Well why can't you- Oh Harry dear! Are you here for Ginny?" Molly asked, scowl dropping from her face as she pulled a warm loaf of bread from the oven and placed it to cool beneath the cracked window.

"Yes, is she?" Harry motioned up the stairs tentatively, eyeing Charlie's unidentified companion somewhat warily.

Charlie smirked, tucking the cover more tightly down on the carrier, "No worries Harry, it's a Moke for Hagrid. Mum's just afraid it'll shrink down and disappear somewhere in the house."

Harry laughed and nodded, starting up the dark stairwell only to come face to face with his grinning girlfriend who placed a kiss on his nose, "Hey there Harry."

Smiling widely, he tugged her down the stairs, "We're off to dinner."

Molly embraced them both, rubbing at an imaginary smudge on Harry's cheek, "Try and be home by eleven dear, I do worry. Plus you've got practice again tomorrow and I'll _not_ have you getting ill."

"Yes Mum," Ginny answered somewhat moodily, pulling Harry toward the door to avoid more instructions, "See you later, and Charlie your lizard is escaping."

With a laugh, the couple jogged away from the house toward the apparition point, Mrs. Weasley's shouts still audible in the distance. Harry pulled Ginny close when they arrived, "Dinner out in London?"

"You're the best," Ginny answered, securing her arms around his waist, she grinned, "Whenever you're ready."

Later, after successfully completing their first attempt at eating _authentic_ Indian cuisine, the couple returned to his small flat, Harry's arm wrapped around Ginny's shoulders snugly on the couch, Lee Jordan's late night show on the wireless playing softly in the background as Harry related what he could of the latest developments on his and Ron's case.

"So the Tenacious Trio is at it again," Ginny summed up, draping her legs over one of Harry's knees.

Harry laughed, "Watch where you say that, it'll catch on."

"I could've said Terrible," Ginny volleyed, nuzzling her face into his musky smelling t-shirt.

He slipped his hand into her hair, scratching her scalp lightly, eliciting a small contented sigh, "So are you excited for training to start back up tomorrow?"

Ginny hummed, "Yes, although the bloody beaters are driving me batty."

Harry grunted, "Not good?"

"Too good."

A chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating reassuringly against Ginny's ear, "I suppose I'll like it eventually."

Lips pressed to the crown of her head briefly, lingering to take in her flowery scent, "Just not while you're their human practice dummy."

"Aye."

Silence descended, broken only by the quiet strains of the Weird Sisters ballad anthology spilling through the flat. Ginny's breathing slowed to a steady rhythm, so much that Harry believed she'd dozed off, until her lightly calloused hand snuck under the hem of his shirt, running leisurely over his torso in random circles.

Harry sighed happily, still half convinced his girlfriend was asleep, until gentle, slightly chapped lips worked their way across his jaw, toward his ear, "You're all prickly."

Reaching for his cheek self-consciously, Harry stiffened, "Oh, sorry I-"

"I didn't say it was bad," Ginny murmured, pushing his chin higher with a nudge of her freckled nose.

Hesitantly, as if waiting for her to disapprove, Harry's hands found her hips, shifting her firmly into his lap, her legs wedged between his. His fingers traced along her neck, lifting her face to his, their lips meeting again in slow caresses. Unexpectedly, Ginny pulled away, eliciting a quiet moan from Harry. Ginny laughed breathily, "So _impatient_ ," adjusting her position to straddle Harry's hips, shorts hitching higher up her lean thighs, "See? _Much_ better."

Some time later, Harry's shirt and glasses long forgotten, the program on the wireless switched from slow love songs to the late evening update, warning of early morning rain that would make broom travel difficult.

Ginny dropped her head to Harry's shoulder with a disappointed groan, shifting back toward Harry's knees, "Do I want to know what time it is?"

"I'm too blind to tell you m'dear. And that's not a lie," Harry answered, voice hoarse as he pulled her shirt down, once again hiding precious swathes of freckled, and _not_ freckled, skin.

The couple laughed softly, before the red head twisted around toward the empty fireplace, squinting at the elegant silver clock – a gift from Percy when Harry started at the Ministry – and slid to her feet, "Just eleven now."

Harry groped around for his t-shirt with little success, until an invisible girlfriend plopped his glasses on the bridge of his nose unceremoniously from behind, bringing the room into focus, "Thanks Gin."

She sighed again, pulling on her sandals, "I wish I could _stay_."

Harry pressed his lips to her forehead, lips brushing as he spoke almost inaudibly, "I won't argue with that, but it's for the best."

Ginny pulled back, hands on her hips, a playful smirk twisting her red mouth, "How's that?"

"Training tomorrow. Starting chasers need their rest."

"If I'd known that would become a new 'Noble Harry' excuse I'dve thrown the try out," Ginny laughed, eyes twinkling as she straightened Harry's shirt needlessly.

Pulling her closer by her elbows, Harry kissed her nose lightly, "I'll bring you home."

Moments later, Ginny was peering in the spotless living room window that looked out over the back paddock, "Mum's still in there, looks like she dozed knitting."

Harry peeked over her shoulder, noting Molly's fallen knitting needles and a half unraveled spool of pale yellow yarn, "You're only a quarter of an hour late; she shouldn't be too put off."

Ginny smiled reassuringly, "Don't worry, it was worth Molly Weasley's wrath." Her fingers twined through the soft inky hair at the base of his neck, pulling him close for another deep kiss that continued until he pulled away, slightly out of breath, "You'd better get in there, get some rest. Can't have a bunch of angry Harpies after me, yeah?"

"Especially the beaters," Ginny smirked.

Nodding sagely, Harry agreed, "I hear they're menaces."

"My ribs say so," Ginny answered, feigning a wince. They stood a few more moments, the crickets and a few stray bullfrogs the only sounds aside from their quiet breathing. With a final embrace, Ginny turned and made her way to the house.

"Gin?"

She paused, hand on the doorknob and looked back over her shoulder, fiery locks spilling down her back in a messy waterfall, "Yeah?"

Harry bit his lip, looking suddenly timid, one hand going to ruffle his hair nervously, _maybe it's a Potter curse_. He cleared his throat, hiding his nervous, white-knuckled fists deep in his pockets, "I love you."

Ginny's face lit up, banishing the gloom of the dark night and his self-doubt in one fell swoop, "Oh Harry, I love you too. So very much."

Without giving him a chance to respond beyond a dazed expression, Ginny darted forward, giving him a short but meaningful kiss, pulling away before he even responded, "Night Harry."

A slow smile spread across his face as she disappeared behind the old wood door. He watched silently as she woke Molly, wrapping an affectionate arm around the older woman's strong shoulders. Ginny glanced back once, their eyes meeting only briefly before her attention was called elsewhere.

Harry waited, watching for light to flood the lace-rimmed window on the second floor, first to the left. A golden glow spilled out onto the trimmed grass, Ginny's face appearing, a brilliant grin spreading her lips as she waved. Content, a small smile worked its way across his face as Harry gave a quick wave, turning on his heel and practically floating to the apparition point.

The following morning, Harry arrived at the Auror office early, a spring in his step. He settled in at his desk, mulling over Hermione's research and the information they'd gathered so far. Their next order of business was to somehow get into contact with the trow colony, and hopefully bring things to a peaceful resolution. _Is it called a colony? Hermione probably told us yesterday…_

Harry was recalled from his musings by a slightly out of breath colleague, Junior Auror Riley Jameson if memory served, who was currently attempting to convey what was apparently an important message. Fighting back a laugh, Harry put a hand on his shoulder, "Have a seat Riley, Ron's not here yet and I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

Riley smiled gratefully and took a few moments to catch his breath, dark fingers wiping at his sweaty temples, "Sorry. Ran all the way from Shetland. They're on the way now, with a trow."

At that moment, Ron strode in, wordlessly assessing the situation – Riley's still flushed face and labored breaths, Harry's eager expression, "Something happen in Shetland?"

"They've got one of the trows, and they're bringing it here?" Harry looked to Riley for confirmation. He nodded, lifting his wrist, "Should be here soon."

Harry, Ron, and Riley quickly dispersed, alerting Robards, fetching Hermione, and preparing an interview room, respectively. Within three quarters of an hour, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were studying their potential suspect through one-way glass, discussing the best course of action.

"Well what did Director Robards say?" Hermione asked reasonably, chewing her lip thoughtfully.

"He left it to our discretion," Ron answered, tapping his fingers on the sill, brow furrowed.

Harry hummed, "Perhaps Hermione first? She might be seen as a more friendly representative."

Hermione grimaced slightly, "Are you sure? I'm not-"

Ron folded his arms over his chest, "If you say you're not qualified I'm going to list all the things you've done masterfully without being 'qualified'."

Flushing, Hermione nodded, pulling her hair back into a low ponytail, smoothing the front of her robes nervously, "So you want to know the specific motive?"

The two aurors nodded, Harry adding as an afterthought, "If you can get him to tell you anything about what wards they are vulnerable to…"

"Ok. I'll do my best. But _don't_ go far," Hermione ordered, poking an imperious finger in their direction.

Harry sent her a mock salute as Ron squeezed her hand encouragingly. She sent them both a tight smile, eyes lingering on Ron's face for a moment, before she turned, squared her shoulders and pulled the door open with a flourish, "Wish me luck boys."


	7. This should be easy, right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron, Harry, and Hermione have a bit of a struggle with their recalcitrant suspect. Ginny makes a new friend, and Harry gets a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has hit a personal record for follows/reviews! Thank you so much for reading. As far as more chapters go, my original plan was to only do two more after this, but I think it might get slightly longer, but not by much. I will puzzle over this during the next week between updates, but longs story short, you get at least two more chapters for this particular story. Let me know what you think of how things are progressing!

After nearly two and a half hours of mostly fruitless discussion, Hermione had pinched the bridge of her nose, sighed, and left the interview room with a quiet 'click' of the lock for parts unknown. Ron and Harry sat in silence, contemplating the current situation – an irascible trow who only spoke to insult Hermione was presently their only known method of protecting the small village in Shetland from sleepwalking to a mysterious mound to perpetually perform for the trollish population. At least that was what they had surmised at this point given their guest's desire to be _completely_ uncooperative.

"I think we should call him Gary," Ron stated, face a mask of seriousness as he tilted his chair on two legs.

Harry folded his arms across his chest and quirked a questioning brow, "He's not a pet Ron."

"Don't go all _Percy_ on me Harry, I _mean_ we should use our innate gifts and creativity to get him talking," Ron drawled, waving his hands about.

"Explain."

A quarter of an hour later, Ron strolled in, twisted one of the free chairs expertly, and propped his forearms on the back as he sat. Harry entered close behind, leaning against one of the bare, grey walls, his legs crossed at the ankles. The trow – Gary according to Ron – eyed the duo warily, scrunching his face so expertly that his beady grey eyes practically disappeared, his face becoming a mass of wrinkles and a pair of protruding pursed lips. Catching Ron's eye in the reflection of the one-way glass, Harry gave a nearly imperceptible nod. _Let's go_.

Ron examined the cuticles of his left hand, and spoke in a disinterested tone, "So. Things as we know them are as follows – you and your slipshod band of miscreants have been sneaking around at night, luring men from the village so they can play music in your little hole? What's the music for?"

The trow remained unmoved, apart from a slight bearing of his yellowed, pointy teeth.

"Ron, d'you think they're a bunch of ballroom dancers? What style do you think's their specialty?" Harry asked, allowing a superior smirk to cross his features.

Tapping his chin thoughtfully, Ron hummed, "I think our friend-"

"Gary?" Harry put in helpfully.

"Ah, yes our friend Gary here looks like a _flamenco_ aficionado," Ron concluded, standing to prepare a cup of tea, his back turned.

The trow let out a small, displeased grunt, turning up his bulbous nose at Harry's offer of a cup of tea, "Prol'y tryn'a poison me, bunch o' snivelin' no good-"

As the trow trailed off into _entirely_ unintelligible grumbles, Ron shot Harry a quick look of triumph, as if already preparing his gloating speech in his head. _Tosser._

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Harry sipped his own tea and bit into a slightly stale and definitely tasteless biscuit, "Y'know Ron, my only question is how exactly do individuals like our friend Gary here _lure_ these men."

Nodding as if to concede a previously unconsidered point, Ron sipped his now tepid tea, "There's the obvious problem that they're asleep when it happens. Although the trows could wake them and it put them in a trance."

"Perhaps it just appears they're asleep?" Harry suggested thoughtfully, subtly eyeing their uncooperative companion, noting his narrowed eyes and slightly bared teeth, _perfect._ Giving an exaggerated shudder, he continued, "Which means they wake up to a _trow_."

Ron grimaced, sucking in a breath as he pushed his empty cup and saucer away, "I've heard of selkies and sirens tempting people away to their doom but-"

Harry draped an elbow over the back of his chair, his other ruffling his hair absentmindedly, he added, "Much more pleasant to be lured by a selkie, eh?"

"At least they're pretty," Ron agreed sagely.

Apparently fed up with their conversation, the trow let out a frustrated growl, "Yer a couple of rapscallions tryna convince me ya wan' to come across a selkie – I know who ye are, the both o' you."

Ron quirked a brow as Harry bit back a laugh at his expense, "What do you mean?"

"I know who you two and tha' other one are, and I know she'llve told ya all about me 'n my kind, plus all the other local lore an' legends. Which means you know meetin' up with a selkie or a siren is a damn sight far from pleasant." With a satisfied smirk that crinkled his face, the trow sat back, taking in their stupefied expressions.

Just as he was opening his mouth to speak, the trow continued, "An' another thing, me names not Gary, it's Wendell."

The two aurors made eye contact, Ron mouthing, ' _Wendell?_ ' in what he believed was a subtle manner. The trow – Wendell – was apparently too perceptive, "Aye, me name's Wendell. Mother though' it sounded posh."

With a smile, Ron turned his attention back to the interviewee, "She was right. Very posh."

Harry nodded in agreement, "It suits you."

Wendell rolled his eyes, "Don' lie. I'm no taller than a saplin' an' as wide as a eighty year ol' oak, but me mother liked it so it's my name."

Both at ease and relieved that their plan had worked, albeit not as they'd intended – not that anyone outside of the two of them would ever know that – the aurors laughed freely and settled into their chairs more comfortably, tension lifting from their shoulders, at least momentarily.

The dark haired auror cleared his throat after a moment, and his companion nodded almost imperceptibly in agreement, "So, Wendell, we have some guesses about why exactly your colony has been attempting to kidnap the villagers, but we'd like to hear it from your mouth."

"And we can get our representative for magical creatures back in here, if she's willing to talk with you again that is," Harry put in, a disapproving tinge on his voice.

"I'll tell 'er I'm sorry meself, if ye like. I'm a bit of an ornery ol' codger, I'll be the firs' to admit. Bit of a cultural thing with us trows. Go fetch 'er, say I'd like to 'pologize," Wendell replied, looking surprisingly shamefaced and showing his first indication of softness.

Harry allowed a small grin to cross his features, "We'll see if we can convince her." _The real chore would've been not getting her back in here…_

With assurances that they'd return as soon as possible, the duo left the interview room as Wendell finally chose to take advantage of the Ministry provided libations.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, a silencing charm ensuring they wouldn't be heard by Wendell, Ron turned to Harry, "So that went pretty well I'd say."

"Got a little nervous for a minute, but yeah. Our plans never go as expected, but usually work out in the end I suppose," Harry answered, gesturing toward their desks where they could regroup and send a note to Hermione.

"It's results that matter mate," Ron asserted, offering a wave to Neville as he slipped out of the office, presumably heading out on a call.

"Should we get Hermione down here now or-"

Ron grinned, laughter in his voice as he pointed toward the frizzy-haired witch storming back into the Auror Office with purpose in her gait, "I don't think we have a choice. Always one step ahead she is."

Once she reached them, Hermione let out a huff, "Ok, I'm ready to go back in. I think I've got another idea-"

Leading the now completed trio over to his desk, Harry sent Robards a reassuring nod through the glass that surrounded his office, "Actually, we've got him talking, and he asked for you."

Face lighting up, Hermione practically squealed in delight, "Oh! I thought for sure he hated me! I was quite disappointed in myself – my first solo liaison work and I'd failed."

"Nah, I knew he was just stone-walling to throw some weight around," Ron offered comfortingly, sitting down on his desk, waving Hermione toward his chair with a careless hand. She grinned at him gratefully, earning a blush, before sitting down happily, "I talked to my supervisor, and she said the priority was finding out the motivation and then brokering a treaty, which is apparently the ideal procedure for these situations."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, pursing his lips in thought, "This happens a lot?"

Hermione nodded, "Well often enough, how did you think our agreements with the goblins came about anyway?"

"I guess I knew how it happened on some far off level, just never thought about how it actually played out." He pulled an apple from his pack, tossing it up in the air and catching it with deft fingers, before biting into it with a crunch, "From our perspective, priority is on making sure there are no _successful_ kidnappings."

"At least in the interim," Ron added, fingers drumming on the lip of his desktop in an irregular beat, "Maybe Wendell can tell help us figure out what wards would be effective?"

"Wendell?"

"That's his name. Said his mum wanted a posh name for him," Harry clarified with a smirk.

Hermione stood, smoothing her robes habitually, her mind whirring, "Well, I think we should get a representative from the Department of Mysteries up here before we go back in there."

Ron and Harry hummed in agreement, the former departing to bring the director up to date with their progress. Harry tossed his apple core into a nearby wastebasket and strode off in search of a loo.

That afternoon, Ginny Weasley arrived in a non-descript alley in muggle London near Harry's flat, an alley that had been armed with a slight notice-me-not charm to allow for easy arrivals and departures – with full ministry support, given Harry's position as an auror… _and himself_. Ginny laughed to herself, peering out into the streets, not quite teeming with the Friday afternoon commuters yet, but full enough that she managed to seamlessly join the stream of people moving down the sidewalk, the glowing sun warming her neck, vibrant hair swinging behind her.

Originally, she'd been under the impression that practice would continue into the late afternoon, followed by a 'team building' night spent at one of the beater's – Philomena Abramo – home. However, the unexpected arrival of Philomena's 'dishy' diplomat fiancé meant she was less concerned with making new friends and more interested in… _reacquainting_ herself with old ones. Her teammates of course understood right away, and those who didn't found some benevolence upon meeting Stefano in all his golden-haired, tanned, and possibly oiled, glory. Ginny had been of the former category, infinitely preferring her long lanky, occasionally awkward – in the most endearing way – boyfriend over the slightly too pretty and perfect Stefano's of the world. _To each their own though…Philomena certainly doesn't seem to have a problem with Stefano, if the speed she ushered us from her back garden was any indication,_ Ginny thought with a laugh as she climbed the cramped flights of stairs, arriving outside Harry's flat only slightly out of breath.

Securing her Harpies issued bag over her shoulder, Ginny raised a freckled fist to knock on the door, "Harry? Hello?"

She paused, listening for movement from within, when a slightly garbled voice called out to her from somewhere behind, "He's not in dear." Turning around, hand twitching for her wand, she came face to face with an elderly woman, flyaway greyed hair spilling from beneath a pale yellow kerchief fastened over her head, a green netted shopping back dangling from her wrinkled fingers.

"Oh. Thank you. I arrived earlier than expected," Ginny paused, grimacing slightly, "Come to think of it, I don't think he expected me at all."

The woman grinned, her bright blue eyes taking in the younger woman's form, "Well if you're his Ginevra then it'll be a pleasant surprise."

Letting out a surprised chuckle, Ginny let her bag slip to the ground, still holding the strap loosely, "How do you-"

"Harry, lovely young man, helps me do the shopping sometimes after work, when I have to get heavy things," she answered, gesturing to her small bag, which contained a fresh loaf of bread, warm buttery scent wafting through the corridor, and a few cans of cat food, a scent that was luckily _not_ wafting anywhere. "He'd planned to take me today, but rang earlier to let me know he'd been detained at work, police business of course. We talk about you a good deal," the older woman stated matter-of-factly, eyes twinkling.

Ginny smiled, glancing toward Harry's empty flat briefly then gesturing to the door across from his, "Is this your flat, then?"

"Oh yes, my Ralph and I moved here after our children grew, wanted to try out the city life," she paused, then laughed to herself, "Look at me, telling you my late husband's name before my own. I'm Mildred."

Taking the proffered hand, a grin split the red head's wind chapped lips, "I'm Ginny, as you apparently know."

"Ah yes, the lad's quite taken with you dear," Mildred informed her with a mischievous air as she divulged her 'secret' knowledge.

"It's a mutual feeling Ms. Mildred," Ginny answered happily. "I don't want to keep you out here, do you need help? I could order us some take-away or fudge my way through a cottage pie if you'd like. I've got the time since Harry's not home."

Mildred shooed her, rummaging for keys in her elegant blue handbag, golden clasp glinting in the afternoon light that speared through the skylights, "You get yourself inside and make yourself comfortable before he gets home. He let it slip once how much he loved when you stole his old jumper and wore it a few months ago I think? Was moony-eyed for days he was."

Ginny snickered, pulling Harry's spare key from her bag and subtly flicking her wand, opening the door with a click of the lock and a creak of the hinges, "That I did _not_ know and believe me I will put your tip to good use, Mildred."

"Call me Millie please, and tell your beau we're on for tomorrow afternoon!" she answered, moving in a manner surprisingly spritely for a woman of her years _._ With a wave and a wink, Millie disappeared into her flat, humming a romantic tune wordlessly.

Once inside the flat, Ginny pulled off her trainers, stuffing them inside her bag and padded through the flat in her socked feet, stowing her things in the corner of Harry's closet. After digging through his drawers, she found a worn tee and an old pair of sweatpants with a drawstring that would suffice for an evening of lazing around his flat and watching the telly. Slipping off her sweaty kit and leaving it in an unceremonious pile on the tile floor, Ginny turned on the shower, pipes squeaking in protest. Releasing her hair from the tie, she shook it out, the curled tips _just_ brushing her lower back. As steam began to fill the small but tidy bathroom, Ginny tip-toed across the chilled tiles and stepped into the warm spray, rinsing the aches from her muscles along with the leftover grime from a long day of practice.

Halfway through her own personal rendition of _Magic Works,_ Ginny paused, suds running into her eyes and down her torso in slippery clumps, waiting for the sound to come again. Just as she was about to brave the slick floors to peek out into the main rooms, the bathroom door clicked open, "What the-"

Harry's voice abruptly cut off, but Ginny could hear his slightly labored breathing and assumed he was slowly putting the pieces together – lights turned on, Harpies kit, running and occupied shower, "Gin?"

"Got it in one."

She heard a sigh, "Bloody hell."

Ginny hummed, pulling aside the curtain, bearing her shoulders and now shampoo free head to her flabbergasted boyfriend, "Care to join me?"

He blinked once, twice, three times, in quick succession, before settling on scrunching them closed, a blush spreading across his cheeks as the steam fogged his glasses, "A week of intensive training with the Harpies shockingly did nothing to inhibit your urges."

Letting the plastic curtain droop _just so_ , she smirked, her voice coming out low and sultry, "Hardly."

He opened his eyes slowly, slipping the spectacles from his nose before wiping them with the corner of his shirt, shaking his head, "I'll wait 'til you're done."

"C'mon. It'll conserve water." She winked saucily.

Raising a finger in front of her face defiantly, he slid his glasses back on and pulled out all the stops, "Ginny I _will_ call your mother."

"No you wouldn't," she volleyed, rinsing the last of the lather from her scrubbed-clean skin before turning off the taps and pulling the curtain aside fully. He was facing the other direction, _pity_ , arms crossed over his chest, "Don't test me _Miss_."

She snickered, pulling a fresh towel from the thin metal shelf tucked next to the toilet and wrapped it around her chest snugly, "It's ok, I have a towel now."

Harry's shoulders stiffened but he remained facing away from her, his hands dropping to his sides and flexing, "I think you're lying. Or being vague enough that you _are_ telling the truth, but are somehow still naked on a technicality."

Ginny sidled closer, her chest brushing against his back ever so slightly, whispering in his ear breathily, "Ah, dearest Harry, naked technicalities are my favorite kind."

He sucked in a breath at her closeness, one hand reaching behind to feel the terry cloth of her towel, before he cracked one eye and turned around. Seemingly helpless, his eyes slid up and down her frame slowly, finally resting on her playful brown eyes, swirling with a deep, enticing fire that pulled him in. Before he knew what he was doing, Harry had closed the short distance between them until their breaths mixed together, noses bumping lightly. Ginny leaned in, letting her lips brush his as she spoke, " _Harry_."

Arms wrapped around her waist, tugging her close, as Harry pulled her in for a kiss that deepened rapidly, her own hands running up his muscled arms to thread through his inky hair. He broke away, laying blistering kisses across her jaw, behind her ear, down the column of her creamy neck. Ginny's arms twined around his neck as she rose to the balls of her feet, pressing her body to his. She tilted her head, nuzzling the side of his face, entreating him to return his lips to hers, a silent request he quickly granted. Slowly, his hands drooped, fingertips brushing her bare thighs, causing Harry to pull back with a gasp, "I'm- I didn't-"

Her hands stroked down the front of his shirt, flicking over the buttons as she let out a sigh, "Don't you apologize for that Mr. Potter. Unless it's for _stopping._ "

After taking a measured breath, his eyes returned to hers. Ginny took in his reddened cheeks, swollen lips, overly mussed hair, and partially unbuttoned shirt – _when did I do that_ – and tightened the towel around her chest, knowing she was likely in a state of equal disarray. Hesitantly, Harry brought one calloused hand to her cheek, expression unreadable, "I just- you're so-"

Ginny twined her fingers with his, leaning into his palm as she blinked slowly, "I know. Me too."

With a small smile, Harry slipped his hand from hers and left the loo, speaking through the closed door, "I'll just order some take away, shall I?"

Smiling she called back, "Sounds wonderful, I'll be just a mo'. You know what I like."

Harry listened as she moved about the bathroom, cabinets opening and closing as she searched for his toiletries. He pressed his forehead to the door, taking a steadying breath before he pushed away and strode toward the kitchen, ringing the local Chinese delivery restaurant.

Returning the phone to its cradle, Harry loped into the living room, drinking in the sight of a clothed but no less enticing Ginny Weasley, festooned in his old clothes, the shoulder seams drooping low on her arms, feet nearly hidden beneath low hanging hems. The red head paused in the middle of rooting around in the couch cushions, calling out loudly over her shoulder, "Harry! Oh, I didn't hear you come in."

They both let out a short laugh. "Nice clothes Weasley," Harry teased.

She lifted the remote into the air triumphantly before plopping onto the settee, "Mine are dirty."

"Help yourself."

Ginny smirked, flicking through the channels disinterestedly, "I already did." She eyed him impishly, pulling her feet underneath her bottom.

Harry quirked a brow, sitting down next to her and slumping back with forced coolness, "I see that."

She hummed thoughtfully, " _Although_ you didn't have any knickers my size, so I just went without."

Harry choked on his own spit.


	8. Now that I have your attention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny and Harry spend a quiet weekend morning together. Elsewhere, the Auror Department confers with the Department of Mysteries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! After midnight, so technically it isn't Monday, but we'll just pretend. Lots of Harry/Ginny time in this one, but there's some important developments on the case.

Early morning sun breaking through a split in the curtains and soft strands of red hair tickled Harry to wakefulness. Taking in a deep breath, he tightened his wiry arm around the slim body tucked snugly with his own, separated by a thin duvet, _ah Ginny_. His eyes shot open once he came to the realization that this actual _real_ Ginny and not dream Ginny that had nowhere to be and no one checking in on her…which meant staying in bed all day and… _anyway_. Beginning his attempts at waking his little spoon, Harry placed a kiss to the crown of her head, murmuring, "Gin, love."

The red head smacked her lips together, pushing her lithe body back into his, curling her spine with cat like agility, she hummed as she snuggled further into the bedclothes, "Harry."

Laughter rumbling low in his chest, Harry nuzzled his head closer to hers, "Just how did we end up here?" He wriggled his chilled toes, attempting to bring warmth to his exposed extremities.

A small mischievous grin spread across Ginny's sun kissed face, fingers knitting with the long thin ones already splayed across her middle, "I have _no_ idea Mr. Potter. One might think you were trying to take advantage of me." The chaser twisted around beneath the covers, pushing them down as she lifted her arms to wrap around Harry's neck familiarly, "Don't smell my morning breath."

Harry chuckled and placed a chaste kiss to her forehead, nose burrowing into her fiery waves, "Time to wake up then."

Ginny tucked her head beneath his chin, pressing her lips to his pulse point gently, "I can't believe you stayed out there all night."

"What d'you mean? I was right here," Harry asked, confusion coloring his voice as he ran nimble fingers up and down her back slowly, the overlarge t-shirt bunching under his ministrations.

Nuzzling his chin affectionately, Ginny shivered as the chilled morning air and Harry's even colder fingers hit the bare skin of her lower back. _That's right. It's the temperature and not the long thin hands stroking up and down…_ "Er- did you doze off?"

With a chuckle, Ginny shook her head, "Nah, and I meant you didn't come under to keep warm, you numpty."

"Now that's just mean. And I stayed above the covers because I know you can't resist this body," Harry laughed, hands stilling beneath the shirt she'd swiped as his lips dragged down the side of her sleep warmed face.

"That's no joke, mate," Ginny sighed, running her fingers through his sleep mussed locks indulgently.

Clearing his throat slightly, Harry pulled away, pressing a quick kiss to the a small cluster of freckles that decorated the bridge of her nose, "We've got to get you up and out of here, right? Can't have rabid Weasleys breaking down my door. It'd upset the neighbors."

Ginny flopped on her back, pinning Harry's arm beneath her, "Ah yes, neighbors. I've had it straight from the source that you've been stepping out on me, Potter." Turning on her side, she propped her head on her palm, eyes locking with Harry's as he struggled to decipher her meaning.

Realization dawned visibly as the thoughtful tension released from his angular face, "You've met Mildred."

"She lets me call her Millie," Ginny taunted, fluffing her hair with one hand as she pushed it behind her shoulder mindlessly.

Harry's gaze followed her movements for a moment, until her giggles brought him back, "Really, hair? That's what does it for you?"

Blushing, he flicked her shoulder childishly and changed the subject with the swiftness of someone who gained expertise in the subject over years of playing referee between Ron and Hermione for nearly a decade, "Millie told you about our little outings?"

Ginny hummed, eyes dark and playful, "And _more_."

Throwing his body backward dramatically, arms splaying wide so that he nearly sent his spectacles flying, Harry moaned with false despair, "You've found me out, I have a lady love on the side. I just couldn't control my wild virility."

Suddenly, the weight on the bed shifted, forcing Harry to grip at the sheets frantically to avoid falling arse over kettle, as Ginny dug her knees in on either side of his hips, arms framing his face. Ducking her head close, Ginny let her lips _just_ brush his chapped ones, "I _know_ that's a lie. You're all too good at stifling your… _virility._ "

Harry gulped, blinking owlishly up at his girlfriend as her hair cascaded around them in an orangey curtain, the gradually shifting sun cutting through gaps in the strands. He opened his mouth, hoping something witty would emerge, only to find his lips otherwise occupied as Ginny closed the remaining distance, laying a blazing kiss on him without hesitation. Some unknowable time later, she pulled away, slightly breathless as she sat back on his thighs, "Time to get going then."

With that, she rolled from the bed, a slight swing in her hips as the door to the loo closed behind her with a _click_. Harry watched her go, glaring at the door as it shut, before dropping his head back on the pillow with a sigh. Once he'd regulated his breathing, Harry ruffled his hair as he grasped around on the bedside table in search of his glasses. Placing them across the bridge of his nose, he called out, "Gin, what about clothes?"

After some shuffling around in the bathroom, Ginny peered around the cracked door, fluffy towel wrapped around her middle securely, hair framing her tanned shoulders, a guilty look in her eyes, "Oh, about that. I lied. My clothes are stowed in your closet."

Harry let out a bark of a laugh, shuffling around for his own muggle clothes, mindful of his promise to Millie, "You know, I'm not as surprised as you'd think."

Readjusting her grip on the towel, Ginny propped her hip against the doorjamb as steam from the shower swirled between her legs, "Oh yeah? Getting predictable in my old age?"

Elbowing his sock drawer closed with partial success, Harry smirked, "I was more shocked you didn't think of a reason to be naked."

Ginny shook her head with mock shame, "I _am_ slacking. Well, what can you do?" Leaving the question rhetorical, Ginny turned her back and dropped her wrapping to the floor before kicking the door shut and stepping into the shower without a glance behind.

Harry gaped, fingers going slack as his socks and pants dropped from their grip, _"Bloody hell."_

As he bend to pick up his lost garments, Ginny's voice called out loudly over the running water, "You'll never one up me Potter, get used to it."

Smirking, he shot back, "Challenge accepted, Weasley."

The following Monday found Harry, Ron, and Hermione Hermione holed up in the latter's office, hashing out the facts as they knew them. Their friend Wendell was cozily situated in a holding cell where he dozed the sunlit hours away, used as he was to life as a nocturnal magical being. Hermione let out a growl, twisting her hair into a messy bun with frustrated tugs, "So they just want _fun_?"

Ron tilted his chair back on its legs, arms crossed over his chest loosely, "That's what it sounds like to me."

Drumming his fingers on the table, Harry sipped his tea thoughtfully, "Can't they just come into town at night?"

Hermione shook her head with a scowl, "The town's laws say no."

Chuckling, Ron dropped his chair back on all fours, "There are also laws against kidnapping."

Harry snorted, pulling one of the many sheets of parchment that littered the table toward him, "Thus the sneaking."

Ron surrendered the point with a tilt of his head, red mop slipping into his eyes, " So what do we do?"

Stacking up her notes and leathery tomes, Hermione stood, chair sliding easily on the tight carpet, "Well _I_ am going to have a chat with my boss who will hopefully call a meeting with the local government in Shetland."

"Sounds good. Robards has someone coming up from the Department of Mysteries to consult about the wards in," Harry paused, pulling out the battered Prewett pocket watch, "a quarter of an hour."

Hermione's eyes lit at the prospect of learning new wards, "Oh, Ron, do promise you'll take notes and tell me everything. I can't believe I'm missing it. No chance you can delay?"

Stepping forward to place a chaste kiss on her cheek, Ron frowned sadly, "Nah, Robards is already miffed it's been delayed this long. But I'll take notes so extensive even _you_ won't want to read them all."

"Fat chance that," Harry muttered, holding the office door open for his companions.

The trio parted ways outside Hermione's supervisor's office, with promises to reconvene after the lunch hour, barring unforeseen circumstances. Once Harry and Ron reached level two, the strode quickly toward the Auror office through the bare hallways, acknowledging a few colleagues with quick nods, not slowing for chitchat.

As they entered the bustling office, Robards caught their attention with a wave of his hand, gesturing for them to follow toward his office. Occupying one if the three chairs positioned in front of the imposing desk sat a small, unassuming, and quite mousy man with sparse grey hair dusting the crown of his head. He stood in a flurry once the trio of Aurors entered, extending a boney hand, moustache twitching, "Hello. Quite pleased to meet you," he paused, eyes shooting toward Harry's forehead briefly, before darting away, " _all_."

"Potter, Weasley, this is Roland Horn," the director grumped, dropping into his seat with a grunt. "Have a seat, we've a lot to discuss and not much time to do it."

Ron and Harry obeyed quickly, Roland following quickly behind them, pulling parchment filled with cramped, even script from his battered briefcase, "Well, getting right down to it, this shouldn't be too much of a hassle. The wards that is."

He paused, fingers tightening around his notes, looking to Harry as if for permission to proceed. Ron hid a smile behind his broad hand as Robards raised an imperious brow. The dark haired Auror shot a glare at his partner before nodding encouragingly, if not a bit awkwardly.

Clearing his throat nervously, Roland continued, reading from his notes religiously, We've made developing this particular protective enchantment our priority, as a department, since you contacted us, Director Robards," he stated, eyes not leaving Harry's face as he spoke, despite addressing the supervisor.

Ron tapped his fingers along his kneecap, fighting back snickers as Roland elaborated, words running together in his haste, "It, the final product that is, acts similarly to a muggle repelling charm, but has the alert system of your standard intruder jinx."

Harry raised his brows at Robards, who seemed resigned to his status as second fiddle and nodded for Harry to proceed. Reassured, the auror shifted in his seat, "Can we set it so the alerts are sent here? To the Aurors?"

"Oh yes! That's the best part!" Roland nearly shouted, eyes gleeful as he flicked through his notes rapidly, "It can even be specially keyed to specific members of the department." The Department of Mysteries' employees eyes left Harry's face for the first time since they'd sat down, darting toward the director and Ron before settling back on Harry, "It works like the trace on under age witches and wizards, but reversed, and _much_ more focused."

Nodding jerkily, ill at ease with bearing the full brunt of Roland's adoring and curious gaze for the better part of a half hour, Harry eked out a smile. Finally taking pity on his subordinate, Robards broke in, voice booming in the still office, "Shall we get all this set up before lunch then?"

Roland jumped in surprise, as if he'd forgotten anyone but Harry was in the room, "Ah, er- yes sir. I can accompany these two young men to the village and have things finalized within three quarters of an hour, assuming the size isn't too large."

Coughing to hide a laugh, Ron sat forward, "It's fairly small. We've walked around the main streets in about that time."

"And this particular spell, since it was developed particularly for you," Roland nodded toward Harry, who lost his battle with an embarrassed flush as the diminutive man continued, "the enchantment can be cast over the entire village without stopping at each building as long as we choose our four anchor points carefully."

Robards pushed up from his chair with a huff, smirking at Harry as he clapped a meaty hand on Roland's shoulder, "Well then. Off you three go."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the supervisor, whose grin only broadened as he shared a glance with Ron, "Have a nice time Potter, Weasley." With a final salute, he pushed the awkward trio from his office and slammed the door behind them, laughter faintly audible from behind the glass.


	9. Never enough time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry spends an afternoon with Teddy, Hermione makes progress with her project, and the two couples catch up over dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I've proofread as this went along, but I didn't get a chance to go over the whole thing. But I figured it'd be nice to get it posted on Sunday night instead of Monday! Things are winding down, but I expect to cover a few more plot points even though the "mystery" is solved.

Harry lay on his back in the middle of the Burrow's cozy den, his godson sprawled across his stomach. Their current game involved Harry puffing out his cheeks comically and the metamorphmagus smacking them, causing a spurt of air to escape very quickly and loudly, a pastime that was enjoyed by both parties equally, laughing uproariously after each circuit.

Molly Weasley was tucked in her rocking chair by the low crackling fire, smirking at the duo covertly behind a half-knitted sweater. Finishing a row, she shot a glance toward her daughter, eyes dancing and hoping for a partner in humor. Ginny peered over her dog-eared playbook at her mother, face red with the effort of holding back giggles at the display. The elder Weasley cleared her throat and refocused on her project, while the younger buried her face further in her tome, drawn figures of players whizzing back and forth across the page in a variation of the Hawkshead Flying Formation that was a particular specialty of the Holyhead Harpies chasers.

As she turned the page, Ginny eyed her boyfriend and his young companion once again, still similarly situated, although the roles had reversed, with Teddy's tiny cheeks puffing up spectacularly and ending with an excellent sound and a sizeable amount of spittle, but neither seemed too concerned. Eventually, Teddy's wild hair faded from an excited lime green to his natural mousy brown as he performed a sort of trust fall, flopping back against Harry's upright thighs with a sigh. Harry readjusted the cushion beneath his head, then gripped the toddler's socked feet, rubbing the soles with his thumbs, "All tuckered out, mate?"

Teddy scratched his button nose as if considering, then grinned toothily, " _Blocks!_ "

"You want to play with the blocks?"

Tilting rapidly, Teddy let his upper body drop toward the floor, face first. Reacting with quick reflexes kept in practice more by the exploits of his godson than his career as an auror, if he was being honest, Harry slid a hand underneath Teddy's chest, preventing a heinous face plant. "Watch yourself little man."

Sitting up, Harry re-situated himself and his companion, setting the latter on his diaper clad bum and flicking his wand with a wordless _accio_ to summon the crate of colored blocks from across the room. Dumping out the contents without an attempt at finesse, Harry began haphazardly stacking multicolored cubes in a single column, which lasted all of half a minute before his playmate kicked them down with a jerky motion, collapsing backward in a fit of giggles.

"Oi! Ted, I was building that," Harry yelped, a grin spreading across his face. Unable to resist her two favorite boys any longer, Ginny placed her book on the side table with a smile before joining them on the floor, situating herself behind Harry, legs splayed around his hips, chin perched on his shoulders, "What are we playing?"

Teddy tossed a block into Harry's lap, narrowly avoiding some precious cargo, "I think we're playing pelt Harry's privates."

Ginny hummed, "Dangerous game that," she paused, "Ted, why don't we build something?"

Looking up from his projectiles, Teddy smiled at Ginny and clapped his chubby hands together, hair flashing through various shades of red before settling on the orangey-gold associated with Weasleys.

Relieved at the relative safety Ginny's suggestion had afforded his…person, Harry handed Teddy a purple cylinder, which resulted in a rapid shifting of colors, before the metamorphmagus landed on the exact hue. Ginny whooped, "Well done, mate."

Honing in on this new game, Harry passed him a yellow triangle, and was rewarded with a similar result. This went on as they cycled through the blocks, repeating some colors and moving at a faster speed, teaching the names of each as they went.

His hair settled into the last, a midnight blue, as Teddy let out a single hiccup and pushed the pile away, crawling into Harry's lap and settling against his chest, one hand gripping at the collar of his godfather's soft t-shirt.

"I don't know how we could send that child to school," Molly put in, knitting needles clacking away.

Ginny lay her head against Harry's back, rising and falling with each breath he took, "Wonder what Andromeda did with Tonks."

Molly hummed thoughtfully, sipping her tepid tea, "Probably schooled her at home. A metamorphmagus presents much larger problems with the Statute of Secrecy than your average primary school witch or wizard with occasional bouts of accidental magic."

Harry stroked Teddy's head absentmindedly, brow furrowed in thought, "Perhaps we could practice with him, get it under control?"

"That sounds reasonable, but I'm no expert," Ginny put in, placing a kiss between his shoulder blades affectionately.

Resuming her knitting, Molly was silent a moment, before answering, "I still think the best choice will be to school him at home. Magic is so unpredictable at that age." Her voice trailed off, eyes distant as if recalling each of her children in their earliest years, when controlling their abilities was a far off concept.

Grabbing a spare ball of yarn, disregarding Molly's protests, Ginny lay back, tossing her make-shift plaything skyward and catching it expertly, "He'll have Bill and Fleur's kid to play and learn with too…"

"Ginny!" Molly nearly shouted, causing Teddy's heavy eyes to shoot open in alarm. Harry placed a kiss to his slightly flushed forehead, hoping to head off a crying fit.

Tilting her head back to make upside down eye contact with her mother, Ginny scoffed, "It's just _Harry_!"

"How did you even know?" Molly blustered, tossing her half finished jumper aside and snatching Ginny's 'toy' with a flick of her wand, earning an angry grumble in response.

Ginny folded her arms across her chest, face stormy, "Fleur is not as quiet as she thinks. It's not like I was using extendable ears at the kitchen door."

Harry quirked a brow, but said nothing, guessing that Ginny's knowledge of the coming Weasley grandbaby was _very_ _much_ the result of some sort of eavesdropping Wheezes product. Standing, he secured his dozy godson across his chest and made his way across the room, planning to put Teddy down for a short afternoon nap.

The Weasley matriarch sighed in defeat, calling his attention back to the two women in the room, "Well, they were going to make a big to do on Sunday, so just act surprised, both of you."

Ginny shot Harry a look, rolling her dark eyes playfully, but answered with a dutiful, "Yes mum."

Biting back a laugh, Harry nodded, "Of course Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione expelled a breath through pursed lips, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Groaning, she arched her back, cracks loud in the sparse room. She'd claimed a small reading room in the Ministry library as soon as she'd checked in with her supervisor that morning, recapping their meeting with the village council, and settled in for the long haul. Rather than breaking for lunch, around noon, she'd munched on carrots and stale biscuits periodically.

Tomes of varying ages, from those on illumined scripts, that required confiscation of her snacks, a special book cradle, and mistrustful glances from the hawk-like librarian, to recently published works detailing the intricate history of inter-creature treaties had aided her research. The truly ancient ones had been handed over for a short, supervised period, which meant she'd slaved over the relevant passages, taking copious notes she could reference and study later, without the looming presence of the diligent keeper of the books.

Glancing at her thin gold watch, Hermione bit her lip, figuring the hours she'd spent holed up in her little hovel… _nearly six hours. I'm surprised they haven't sent a search party. Although Ron and Harry have probably come to expect this sort of behavior by now._

Flicking through her notes slowly, she pulled a fresh sheet of parchment toward herself and begin the initial draft of the treaty of sorts between the members of the small magical community on the coast of Shetland, ' _Whereas…'_

About an hour and a half later, the young witch shook the full parchment back and forth gently, aiming to dry the ink to avoid smudging, skimming over the carefully crafted paragraphs to ensure there were no glaring mistakes. It seemed she'd hit all the main points they'd hoped to include, but left things vague enough that the parties themselves could work together to taper it to their situation. Given the input of the small committee the previous week and their friend Wendell's detailed advice regarding the customs and norms of trow culture, she was fairly confident this was an excellent starting point for negotiations. The sampling of witches and wizards she'd interviewed agreed that trials and possible prison time for the accused trows was not a necessary result, given the fact that the intent had been less heinous than originally thought, and the fact that there had been no successful attempts.

However, this still hung on the decision of the individual victims, who had the option to press charges on their own, _as always_. The true problem with _that_ solution was the difficulty in establishing which trow had made the attempt, since the only identified suspect was Wendell.

In an attempt to ease the minds of the villagers, certain elements of the treaty would work as binding magical contracts on the trow community, ensuring serious ramifications if they were to go back on their promise to leave the villagers in peace. This concession would be matched by abolishing the ban on trows entering the town to conduct business and interact with the citizens, a concept that would also apply to witches and wizards who wished to enter the previously restricted access trow holdings.

Snapping a dusty book closed, a cloudy plume tickled her nose, bringing about a gargantuan sneeze that drew the stodgy librarian's heated glare. Smiling sheepishly, Hermione gathered her things, placing the books to be re-shelved on a small cart by the door and exited the room for the first time in seven hours, minus trips to the loo, and pulled the door closed with a careful 'click.'

As she passed the front desk, Hermione offered a small wave, accordion folder tucked closely to her chest as she strode toward the lifts, hoping Ron and Harry were still around to hash out the last bit of her work.

Once on level two, Hermione exited the lift, leaving behind a few stray inter office memos that had gotten lost at some point and collected together in the upper corners. As the doors closed, a tinny voice uselessly calling out the next floor, she strode toward the Auror office in search of her partners in crime… _perhaps partners against crime would be more appropriate…_

The office was mostly empty, a few employees quickly and quietly finishing up random paperwork that had accumulated during the day, a silence only broken by scratching quills and…laughter. Hermione shook her head affectionately, making her way toward the cubicles she knew to belong to Harry and Ron. Pausing still out of their line of vision, she watched a large ball of parchment with scribbled out words fly from one doorway to another, followed by victorious cheers from a certain Potter, "Perhaps _I_ should've been the keeper back at Hogwarts. I'm apparently rather good."

The ball was tossed back, before bouncing into the middle of narrow pathway between desks, "I fail to see how me being a rubbish chaser means I'm also a rubbish keeper. That last block serves as case in point."

Silence descended, with Harry apparently flummoxed by Ron's argument. Still, not one to stand for defeat, Harry soon shot back, "Well I _caught_ the bloody thing, you just batted it away like Crookshanks."

Sucked back into the cubicle she knew belonged to Ron, the parchment disappeared, only to fly much higher than before, and given the outraged cries, hit Harry in between the eyes expertly, "I don't recall catching the quaffle being a requirement, and Crookshanks would make a ruddy good keeper, I must say."

Still displeased with his best mate, Harry grumbled, "Should've recruited _him_ in sixth year."

Ron's swearing ramping up splendidly, Hermione chose this moment to enter the conversation, clearing her throat importantly, "Boys."

Both nearly jolted to attention before realizing it was merely Hermione, leaving Ron to vault forward, greeting her effusively, and Harry to slump back in his chair trying to will himself to a different location altogether.

When it became clear that the couple to his third wheel had no intention of stopping on their own, Harry leapt up, his chair rolling back dramatically, "Director Robards!"

Ron jumped away from Hermione, who was blushing profusely, both with apologies and excuses on their lips, until realizing the trick. "You're a right bloody bastard."

" _Ron_ ," Hermione admonished, patting her hair back into its usual frizz, rather than its snog-induced frizz.

Looking slightly abashed, Ron sat back in his chair, gesturing for Hermione to pull another over, "It's ruddy _true_."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Perhaps Ginny and I will have a hankering for public affection at the pub this week."

"Are you trying to make me _more_ angry?" Ron shot back, ears and neck reddening rapidly.

Just as Harry opened his mouth, fully prepared to volley back another taunt, Hermione broke in, "I did have a reason for coming. As soon as I've finished talking you two can go back to your lover's spat."

Both boys groaned, Harry miming sicking up, and Ron whining, "Aw, did you have to say that? My appetite will be spoilt for a week."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Harry scoffed, smirking mischievously.

" _Anyway_. I've got a first draft of the agreement, but I wanted some input regarding reparations that the trows could provide to the people," Hermione stated, no longer waiting for a clean opening.

Now confronted with official business, Ron and Harry sat straighter, giving Hermione their undivided attention as she continued, "I'd thought maybe they could provide some sort of public service, maybe something they are specially suited to…"

Ron nodded, "That could work. Most of the wizards and witches we've talked to were most concerned with making the attempts stop, rather than the punishment end."

"Wendell did say they are excellent watchmen, given their nocturnal nature," Harry put in thoughtfully.

Hermione hummed, "Perhaps they could guard livestock? Or _something_ of the sort. So you do think it could work then?"

"We'll need a DMLE presence, but I think it might not require Aurors since we've addressed the dark magic issue," Ron theorized, rooting around in his desk for sustenance, locating a slightly bruised apple and biting into it with a shrug.

Standing, Hermione brushed imaginary lint from her robes, running her fingers through Ron's smooth locks as she sent her chair back to its resting place, "Well, I'm off then. Hopefully my supervisor is still around."

"Just don't forget you and Ron are doubling with me and Ginny," Harry reminded, a small, genuine smile quirking his lips as he spoke.

With assurances that she'd be sure to remember, and a brief kiss to the crown of Ron's head, Hermione departed in a swirl of dark robes, purpose in her gait.

Ginny pulled a second slice of pizza to her plate, tugging with expert sharpness to sever the strings of melty cheese connecting the crispy crust to the rest of the pie. Before she could ask, Harry silently placed the red pepper flakes in her waiting hand, swallowing down the last of his crust before eyeing the remaining slices discriminatingly. Grabbing from the peperoni side excitedly, he slipped one from its place, his girlfriend deftly tucking his chipped plastic plate underneath the waiting deliciousness. From across the table, Hermione smirked at the couple, already so in tune with each other, a state of affairs that indicated either intense closeness or an unhealthy obsession with pizza.

Disinterested in the inner workings of his best mate and younger sister's relationship, Ron wiped at the corners of his mouth and took a gulp of his drink, "So how's things with the Harpies Ginny?"

Nodding and smiling to delay answering as she swallowed, Ginny held up a finger, before responding, "It's certainly got me knackered, but in the best way. Training's a bear, but I already feel like I'm better, yeah?"

Harry pushed his chair back slightly, slipping an arm over the back of Ginny's chair, "That's fantastic, Gin. Now we're going to fight over you even more in pick up games at the Burrow."

Ginny laughed, elbowing Harry's ribs playfully, "Aye, that's been my plan this whole time. Make it professionally so I can finally destroy my brothers in Sunday night games."

Ignoring Harry as he stuck out his tongue maturely, Hermione polished off her second piece and shooting inquisitive glances toward the dessert case filled with Italian delights, including freshly made cannoli, if the laminated sign was to be believed. Ron caught her line of sight and stood to order one for each of them, waving off their offers to pay, "They come in pairs, _honestly_."

"So back to the Harpies, when's your first game?" Hermione asked, stacking their empty plates at the end of the table meticulously.

"The week of my birthday if you can believe it," Ginny gushed, shoulders rising toward her ears as she grinned excitedly.

Ron returned to the table at that moment, order marker in hand, "That's not far off at all, eh?"

Face tightening in nervousness infinitesimally – in fact so much so that Harry was the only one of her companions to take notice, rubbing her muscled arm in comfort – Ginny fiddled with her silverware, "Yeah, quite soon. I can't rightly believe it's almost time."

The conversation paused as their pastries arrived, Ron and Hermione tucked in immediately. Noting Ginny's delay at enjoying her dessert, Harry paused to place a kiss to Ginny's temple and breath into her ear, "You'll be fantastic, dear."

Blushing at his recognition of her nerves, Ginny set her fork down with a clatter tugging Harry's face toward hers with one hand as she whispered, "I love you." Before he had a chance to reciprocate, her lips were with a heady intensity that Harry immediately emulated, until Ron cleared his throat, "Oi! I'm eating."

Harry pulled away, flushed from his activities rather than Ron's reproof, "Need I remind you two of the performance you foisted on me this afternoon?"

Ginny quirked an inquisitive brow as Hermione blushed rather excellently and Ron fumed. In answer to her unasked question, Harry kissed her cheek chastely, "I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say Ron is well acquainted with Hermione's tonsils."


	10. Slimes, Scents, and Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy makes an appearance! Lots of Hinny this chapter, and Harpy!Ginny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO LATE :( School got crazy and will be for at least the rest of the week, but I got it out! I only expect one more chapter after this one where I plan on wrapping up things with everyone, which will include lots of fluff and brotp time I'm sure. Let me know what you think and if you have any related plot things you'd like to see addressed in the last chapter!

Small, still chubby fingers reached into the mash of peas and carrots, sinking into the mix with a squelching sound that made Harry wrinkle his nose. Teddy grinned. Stifling a smile behind a forced scowl, Harry attempted to indicate his displeasure with his godson's newest choice of toy. Teddy's grin widened. "You're going to end up a ball of mischief, aren't you," Harry half sighed, not expecting an answer beyond the one he received, a goopy pat to his scarred hand followed by little bubbles of spittle. Flicking his wand toward the kitchen sink, he raised his hand to grasp the incoming dish towel and wiped Teddy's hands expertly, folding it over to a clean side before moving on to the toddler's face, "I may be a pushover, but I won't turn you into Dudley with spoiling, mate." Teddy blinked, tilting his head in what gave the appearance of thoughtfulness. Picking up the discarded spoon, Harry scooped another mouthful of vegetables up and held them before Teddy's mostly toothless mouth, prodding his closed lips gently, "Open up then."

Undeterred, Teddy clamped his lips tighter, cheeks flushing with the effort. Just as Harry was about to embark on a reasoned argument on exactly _why_ the metamorphmagus had to eat the light green mush, Teddy's mouth opened in glee, hands clapping excitedly as his hair shifted to an orangey red – _Weasley red_. Face mirroring his godson's, Harry turned, dropping the spoon to the table in a messy clatter to find Ginny lingering in the doorway in her Harpies practice kit, hair wild and eyes bright with excitement and exertion, and a black eye, "Hello lads."

Chair legs scraping in protest, Harry practically bounded across the room, sweeping Ginny up in a fierce embrace, pulling her face toward his and stroking the bruised area gently, "Hey Gin, you've got a little something here."

Smacking his shoulder, Ginny laughed, "I _know_. Don't go all smarmy on me."

Harry stepped back, placing an affronted hand to his chest, "I would _never_ ," he turned and looked toward Teddy for backup, only to find his backup had somehow gotten his hands back into the peas and carrots. _At least he's eating it…_

Shrugging, he followed Ginny as she sauntered into the kitchen, pushing herself up onto the counter easily and tugging a packet of crisps from the corner cabinet, crunching with satisfaction.

He strode toward her, placing one hand on either side of her knees, her bare feet just brushing his thighs, "Should I ask how practice was?"

Excitement practically bubbling over, Ginny gushed, " _Wonderful_. I think these last few practices me and the others are finally getting on like actual teammates. Today in particular."

Quirking a brow, he gently stroked the sides of her legs with his thumbs as he drawled, "Because you let them punch you?"

Ginny pushed his face away with a careless hand as she laughed, leaning back and nearly smacking the crown of her head on the upper cabinets, " _No_." She paused, "Well not exactly."

Harry let out a breathy chuckle, dropping his forehead to her freckle-flecked shoulder, "Care to elaborate?"

Running her fingers over his back in massaging circles, Ginny's laugh rumbled through her chest, "We were running plays against the reserve chasers, and then Gwenog put in the beaters-"

"My auror training is clueing me in on there this is going," Harry murmured, lips brushing the skin between her shoulder and neck.

" _Anyway_ , we'd gotten the quaffle, and the opposing beaters honed in on one of the other girls just as she was passing to me. So she swung her bat backwards right into my-"

"Your face," Harry finished, lips pursed, knowing any appearance of pity or babying would not be taken well.

"Oi! It's my story," Ginny snapped good-naturedly, "But yes, right in the face. Lost a tooth!"

Harry took in Ginny's immaculate pearly whites, noting they'd apparently grown the missing one back before she'd left, "So they like you because they beat you up?"

Ginny pinched his forearm, "Don't be an arse. They _like_ me because I still made the catch… _and_ the goal." Triumph sparked in her chocolate eyes, one still ringed by dark hues of purple and blue.

Placing a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, Harry stepped away to begin tending to his godson, who had filled his few minutes alone by completely overturning his dinner and using it as finger paints. Once Harry neared the high chair, Teddy looked up with a grin that anticipated praise for his artistic exploits, expectations that were dashed by the frown on his godfather's face, "Ted. We've been through this."

Teddy blinked once, twice, and then turned to his only remaining ally, who lingered in the golden kitchen light over Harry's shoulder. Smiling kindly, Ginny picked the toddler up, propping him against her hip, his grubby fingers smearing down the front of her mud splattered uniform. Taking one of his little hands in her own, she rubbed her nose with his, "Let's get you cleaned up, love. Harry'll get rid of the mess." Braid swinging between her shoulder blades, Ginny headed for the loo, smirking at Harry's grumbling about fickle girlfriends and treacherous godsons.

After Teddy's bath, which resulted in a soggy Ginny, a smirking Harry, and a giggling metamorphmagus, the auror volunteered to complete the remaining bedtime rituals while the chaser cleaned herself up. As Harry was leaving, Ginny scoffed, "Are you trying to tell me something?" Pausing, she sniffed herself and shrugged. Peering back around the doorway, Harry raised a skeptical brow, "Maybe the bat to the head buggered up your sense of smell."

Eyes sparkling temptingly, Ginny leaned forward, their breaths mixing, "I guess you're right." Before he could close the distance, she turned around, quickly slipping her top off and tossing it into the hall as she called back through the now closed door, "I won't bother you with my _scents_ anymore."

Tugging the vest from his face, glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose, Harry sighed, head drooped in defeat. As if sensing his need for consolation, Teddy rounded the corner carefully, tumbling steps broken up by pauses at corners and table legs, and looked up into his godfather's frowning face. Harry opened his emerald eyes as the shower spigot squeaked on and he fought the urge to imagine what was happening just a door away. Commiserating with his plight, Teddy patted sock-clad foot and clung to his shin, hair fading to a stark black to match his own.

He hung the uniform top over the doorknob and crouched to pick up his godson, meandering to the room set aside for his young guest, "Ted. Beware of Weasley women."

Late afternoon sun and an accompanying cool wind pressed against Ginny's flushed cheeks as she pushed to maintain her pace around the pitch, eyes darting between the path in front of her and her two teammates positioned to her left and right. They'd wrapped up regular team practice, and each position had broken off into their specialized training sequences. Hoping to perfect their passing tactics even when physically drained, as was likely to happen in professional games that occasionally seemed endless, Gwenog had set them the task of performing their plays on the ground. Not one to expect more of her players than she was willing to give, the coach was their pace keeper, blowing her whistle sharply the minute any one of them appeared to fall behind her steady clip.

Two blows of the whistle signaled it was time to switch places in formation, meaning Ginny was now expected to smoothly drop backward into the left flanking position as her other two teammates moved seamlessly into their places. Early on, they'd bumped shoulders and occasionally knocked ankles, but a stern promise from Gwenog that each mistake reset their count renewed their aim for perfection.

As they rounded the southern curve of the pitch, passing the towering trio of rings, Ginny pushed her body to move, feeling a residual rush of adrenaline sing through her muscles, toes tingling with a strange, almost pleasant feeling as she caught the quaffle, barely touching it with the tips of her fingers before she passed it forward.

Completing the play with swiftness and agility, the trio shared triumphant glances through sweaty tendrils before three shrill whistles interrupted them, "Let's call it a night Harpies. I kept you late enough." The coach tossed a few towels their way and strode toward her office, drying the sweat from her own chest and neck along the way.

Slowing to a trot, a jog, and finally an ambling pace as they exited the field and neared the clubhouse, Ginny toweled her face messily before her coach's words registered in her dehydrated and sluggish brain, "Wait. How late are we?"

Rheta, one of her fellow chasers, squinted at the sky, tugging the tie from the end of her plaited ponytail, ebony locks acting as a mirror for the rays of the still bright sun, "I'd say we went over by about a half hour or so."

Ginny growled in frustration, "Bloody hell I promised mum," and shot off toward the changing rooms before either woman had a chance to respond.

She'd felt like she'd been neglecting her mum since training with the Harpies had become more demanding with each day that drew them closer to their first match. Consequently, when Molly asked her to help her shop in Diagon, where Ginny knew the Weasley matriarch still struggled to fight past the clouded expression that arose whenever they saw the colorful spires of a certain shop, she hadn't been able to refuse.

Without pausing, Ginny breezed into the changing rooms, not taking notice of her surroundings beyond yanking her shower things from her locker, only slowing to ensure she didn't slide on the slick tiles. After a quick scrub, Ginny dried herself and cast a cursory glance at her bright eyes in the community mirror before striding toward her locker once again, digging around for her street clothes.

As she uncomfortably yanked her jeans up her still damp legs, Ginny finally noticed the relative emptiness of the usually boisterous locker room, Philomena and Rheta among a handful of players who had arrived to clean up before they left for the evening. Dragging a comb through her hair recklessly, Ginny frowned thoughtfully, "Where is everybody?"

Philomena laughed playfully as she twisted her shimmery yellow hair into a loose twist at the back of her head, spearing it through with a wickedly sharp ivory chopstick, "Something more _exciting_ is in the visitor's area."

Ginny rolls her eyes and let out a chuckle at her absent teammates' expenses. _Probably one of the 'fan clubs' hoping for a date with a Harpy…_

Casting a quick glance around the contents of her locker, Ginny slammed it shut with a clatter, sliding her wand into an inner pocket on her crisp denim jacket, "I'll see you lot tomorrow."

Rheta peered around the corner from the showers, steam rising around her tan face, "Have a nice night with your _mum_ , Ginny." Philomena let out a snort as she shimmied into her tight black pants and waved Ginny away, "Don't keep _her_ waiting!"

Furrowing her brow, Ginny offered a confused wave and padded out the door, wary for practical jokes after the beyond strange behavior of her teammates. While eying her surroundings for any kind of trip wire or other triggering mechanism, she strode toward the apparition point with a quicker pace, hoping to keep her mum from waiting _too_ long. As she rounded the last turn, Ginny noticed the gaggle of Quidditch players as well as support staff, in the dark as to what could possibly warrant that much attention. Fingering her wand, she made to depart, the property line behind the Burrow heavy in her minds eye, until a familiar voice shouted for her across the breezeway.

Turning, she spotted Harry's raised hand over the crowd of what were apparently his fan girls. He smiled brightly at her, before his face clouded with something like anger at a woman, one of the office staffers if her wardrobe was any indication, who had placed a presumptuous hand on his chest, batting her eyes playfully.

Shoving his way through the mass of mostly female bodies, Harry's grin widened as he neared and spoke in a lower voice, "Hey Gin."

Sharing a relatively platonic embrace given their audience, Ginny stepped back, hands still sitting on his strong shoulders, "What are you doing here?"

Harry's fingers tightened their grip on her hips, thumbs stroking the sliver of skin between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her cut offs, "We're going out, for our birthdays."

Before she had a chance to answer, Ginny took in the still lingering females behind Harry's back and narrowed her eyes threateningly, a glare that had Harry turning to determine the motivation. Unimpressed, he pulled Ginny toward an empty doorway marked for 'Employees Only' and smirked, tugging on a tendril of damp red hair, "

" _I'm_ the one who's green-eyed Gin."

"I've no idea what you're on about," she shot back loftily, a fiery brow arching.

"Sure."

Pinching his arm but staying close, she sniffed with a haughty air, " _And_ you smell."

Harry's face scrunched in confusion, one hand leaving her waist to push his glasses up his nose, "Is this because of that comment on Friday?"

Letting her hands drop, she leaned back against the wall, tucking one foot over the other with forced casualness, "No."

Mirroring her stance, he pulled the fabric of his t-shirt toward his nose, sniffing experimentally, "I smell like soap and…"

Folding her arms and tilting her head in examination, she answered, " _You_ smell like Harpies."

Understanding evident on his face, he closed the short distance between them, hands pressed into the wall on either side of her waist as he grinned flirtatiously, "You know there's only one Harpy I want to smell like."

"I'm sorry Gwenog's just not interested," Ginny sighed playfully, face still locked in an unhappy expression.

Harry stumbled back gripping his chest dramatically as he wailed, "She hurts me so."

Despite her efforts, Ginny couldn't hold back the laugh and accompanying grin as she brushed imaginary lint from his torso where _someone else_ had touched him. Inwardly scolding herself for being so possessive, she twisted her hair and tuched it over one shoulder, "I'm sorry but I can't, do birthdays tonight I mean."

Seeing the beginnings of his pleas, which she was woefully vulnerable to, Ginny covered his lips with a decisive hand, "No. I really can't, if it was anyone but mum I would-"

Licking her hand so she pulled it away with a groan, Harry poked her stomach in random spots, charming her with his easy smiles, "Don't worry about your mum."

Ginny gripped both his pointer fingers in her fists tightly, " _Seriously_ aside from wanting to do the right thing, we've already tested her temper enough over the last month."

"Which was never my fault," Harry put in, wiggling his other fingers to brush along her belly, earning a glare from his girlfriend.

With a dangerous smirk, she continued, "I didn't hear you arguing."

"Then you must be deaf."

Leaving the repartee for another day when her mother wasn't pacing the floor awaiting her arrival, Ginny released his hands, " _Anyway_ , she needs me to take her to Diagon Alley."

"No she doesn't," Harry answered, tugging her toward apparition point.

Confused by Harry's unusually devil may care attitude regarding the opinion of her parents, Ginny paused, bringing their little caravan to a halt, "Yes she-," she broke off, eyeing Harry's impatient stance and freshly washed clothes, " _Oh_. She's in on this."

Prodding her nose with a single digit, he resumed their path to the apparition point, "Excellent deductive reasoning dear."

Finally surrendering herself to the joy of an evening out with her boyfriend, Ginny lengthened her stride to bring them side-by-side, "Don't patronize me. Also shouldn't I surprise _you_ for your own birthday?"

He ruffled his hair, showing the first hesitance of the evening, "Er- I wanted to make sure we got a night just us for both of ours, and they're both so close to your game…"

Wrapping her arms around one of his, she leaned her head against his shoulder comfortably as they walked, "I don't have your gift with me though."

Harry laughed lightly, "Meaning you haven't _bought_ it. I know how you work. And I'm _hurt_."

Ginny let a hand slide down, knitting their fingers together, "Well you sprung this surprise self birthday a week early so…"

Coming to a stop at the apparition point and pulling her closer than side-along apparition required as he murmured, "I'm sure we can work on something that's…mutually enjoyable."


	11. Past, present, and future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return of Millie, closing up loose ends, each couple spends some quality time, and Ginny's first Harpy game!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the last chapter!! Its a long one (for me anyway). Hope you all enjoy the wrap up :)

Harry twisted the delicate cup around in its matching saucer, using particular care when he pinched the slim handle between his thumb and forefinger. After carefully blowing across the steaming top, he took a small sip, eyes closing in satisfaction so complete he fought back a groan as he leaned back into the tufted chair. Bracing the cup and saucer on his knee, Harry's brow furrowed before he called out, "Are you sure I can't be of help Millie?"

No answer came but the slamming of cabinets and a crash that sounded like the entire stock of a kitchen supply store had been dropped from the highest spire of Hogwarts. Nearly upending his PG tips in surprise, Harry made to stand, fearing Mildred had taken a spill, until the elderly woman appeared around the corner, bearing at tray laden with finger sandwiches, home baked scones, and blueberry jam care of one Molly Weasley.

Millie set the tray down with gentile grace on the carefully polished cherry wood table strewn with ancient looking lace doilies, "I may not be as spry as you, young man, but I can lay out afternoon tea just fine." With a look that begged him to try challenging her, Millie proceeded to prepare her own tea before placing a selection of finger foods on each of their plates, holding out Harry's once she'd finished.

After placing his tea on an end table filled with faded, unmoving photographs, Harry accepted the pearly white plate gratefully; he'd had a night shift and collapsed in his bed as soon as he arrived home, too tired to eat anything, despite going without for nearly twelve hours. Without pausing to inspect just what he was about to eat, Harry bit into the precisely trimmed sandwich, sighing contentedly as the creamy flavor mix of smoked salmon and avocado hit. Grinning at his enjoyment, Millie tucked in to her own selections until she looked at Harry thoughtfully, blue eyes still sharp beneath thick plastic frames, "I've noticed something about you I think you've tried to hide."

Harry nearly choked on his second sandwich, carrot and raisin if he wasn't mistaken, swallowing it down with a nervous gulp, _what do they do to aurors who break the statute of secrecy? I've been so careful how could she-_

Desperate for time, he took a large swallow of his dark tea, _just be cool Potter, denial is always an option. You're a bloody occlumens and she's an octogenarian muggle who embroiders cats on cushions._ Sliding his cup back into place, Harry tried to remain calm as he studied his plate's contents, taking great pains to expertly cover his scone in tart sapphire colored jam, "What've you noticed, Millie? I'm a fairly low-key bloke. Not much interesting going in with me." _Stop babbling you bloody-_

Sipping her tea and eyeing him mischievously over the rim of her floral cup, Millie didn't respond right away. After watching him squirm, she braced her hands on her lap, "I've only started taking notice since I bumped into your fiery haired sweetheart in the corridor."

Mind racing, Harry struggled to think of what exactly Ginny could've done to give them away, since he hadn't seen Millie that day at all. After he'd arrived home, both had agreed a night in was preferable to the effort of going out for a late supper. Then they'd dozed off together…

Millie eyed Harry's glazed expression with a smirk, "The lovely Ginny comes over a lot, and she doesn't leave," Harry's heart stopped, sometimes, Ginny had flooed right to the Burrow instead of apparating, and now Mildred had noticed… _how am I going to explain?_

"Does her family know how many nights she spends over?"

Harry blinked. _Spends over…_ "Oh, you're- I- Ginny?"

Leaning forward, the older woman patted Harry's knee, "Its all right, dear, I know how hormones and emotions work." She paused, taking in the round photo frame on her mantle, where a young couple peered back dressed in wedding finery. Harry followed her gaze, then cleared his throat after he'd gathered his thoughts, "I won't say specifics, but, her family is… _aware_. And well as for the rest, I probably shouldn't say."

"You two remind me of how we were, my Fritz and I," Millie stated, not pressing for more information as her face softened, eyes distant.

Not sure if she wanted him to respond, Harry remained silent, making himself busy preparing another cuppa while she recovered herself. With a blustery sniff, she smoothed out her pale grey skirt, pinning Harry with her wizened gaze, "You don't let her get away. What you two have, I know it. I've seen it, been _part_ of it, and you may not realize because you're young, but it's special."

An embarrassed flush rising to his cheeks, Harry nodded, mouth opening to answer, before he realized he didn't know what to say. Noting his floundering expression, Millie divided the remaining sandwiches between them, and cleared her throat, " _Now_. Enough of that. Eat up, you're _much_ too scrawny. I'm sure Ginny likes you best with some meat on your bones. Can't have you wasting away with that job of yours."

Harry grinned, "Too right you are."

Striding down the non-descript hallway, the sounds Hermione Granger's low-heeled pumps echoed off the shiny tiled floors and cold grey walls. The young Ministry employee wrinkled her nose at the wiry tendril of golden brown hair that had broken free and slipped in front of her dark eyes. Sighing, she decided the effort of readjusting her armful of books and papers was too much effort compared to the relatively short time it would take to arrive at her destination and plowed ahead. As she entered the office, Hermione offered a nod to the receptionist, not breaking stride as she proceeded toward her small private space. Groaning with the relief of unburdening her quivering arms, Hermione slid into her worn desk chair with a contented smile on her face.

She was jarred from her thoughts by a quick knock and the sound of ancient rusted hinges squeaking closed. Prepared remonstrations for the quite forward interloper flew from her overworked mind as she took in the tall, slightly gangly auror currently lounging against the sparsely decorated wall, orangey red hair just brushing the framed photograph of her parents. Her eyes slid over his slim form, drinking in the sight of him after seventy-two hours spent either in negotiations or crammed in a small, damp, shared room in one of the local inns in Shetland.

Ron smirked, blue eyes twinkling, "Enjoying the view, Hermione?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr Weasley," Hermione answered primly, busying herself with tidying her desk uselessly in the hope of disguising her steadily rising blush.

"A likely story. But I didn't come to discuss my dashing good looks."

"Well good. That would be a fairly short conversation," Hermione shot back, regaining her footing now that she was over the initial shock… _and not looking at his freckled face, slightly crooked nose, and that one corner of his mouth that always quirked up just a little more…_

Ron cleared his throat, one brow quirked playfully has he plopped into one of the decrepit chairs she'd salvaged from a dank supply closet her first week on the job, "I came because I overheard one of the office secretaries talking about how the negotiations had finally wrapped up."

Forgetting her embarrassment, Hermione practically gasped in excitement, "Oh Ron! It was _wonderful_."

At his gesture to elaborate, she plowed ahead, outlining the process they'd implemented to facilitate the treaty between the wizarding community and the local trows, how it had been a groundbreaking event, and how almost her entire initial draft had made the cut. Without pausing for breath, she let her tired and stiff body drop back into her chair, "I just really feel like I can make a _difference_ here."

Smile splitting his angular face, Ron stepped around the desk, prdding her forward as he worked the tight muscles in her shoulders, "I'm so happy."

Biting back a moan at the delicious feel of tension leaving her body, Hermione whispered, "Me too."

Slowly, he started pulling his fingers away, despite Hermione's protests, and perched himself on a bare corner of her cluttered desk, "I'm glad you're in such a good mood, since I came to kidnap you for lunch. As a celebration."

Hermione dropped her forehead to his knee, knitting her tan fingers between his long pale digits, "Sounds lovely. Although I _was_ just planning to work through lunch since I was out the whole morning."

Ron snorted, " _Working._ "

"Well yes-"

Ron narrowed his eyes, lifting her chin with a broad hand, "If you finish that sentence with anything but 'so I'd love to go to lunch' I'm not responsible for my actions."

Ron huffed as he tried and failed for the tenth time in as many minutes to attract the attention of one of the concession workers, rubbing his stomach dejectedly as he slumped back into the unforgiving plastic seat. Hermione eyed him, "We ate lunch before we came! Honestly."

Harry smirked, but kept his eyes trained on the players darting back and forth across the pitch. The red head smacked Harry's arm, with no perceivable results. Realizing his attempts at gaining an ally were pointless, he turned back to Hermione with a slight whine, "The game has been going for _three hours_."

Following Ginny's movements closely, Harry winced as one of Tutshill's chasers broke through the Harpy chasers' formation, and leapt from his seat with a roar when that same chaser elbowed Ginny in the nose, a rush of blood indicating the extent of her injury. Momentarily forgetting his hunger, Ron followed Harry's example, pennants and program falling to the floor with a clatter as he shouted for the referee to call the foul.

Hermione scowled in anger, whipping out the copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ she'd purchased as soon as Ginny had gotten her slot on the team and muttering about blagging and unsportsmanlike behavior.

As Ginny flew forward to take her penalty shot, sinking it expertly and bringing the scores even, before swiping under her bloody nose with a careless fist. Ron had recovered from his familial concern and was once again gripping his deprived belly, sulking behind his Harpy scarf. Harry bit back a grimace at his girlfriend's injuries and took pity on his best mate, raising a hand to summon one of the concession workers and gesturing to Ron who smiled gratefully.

Ron caught the snack bags skillfully, nodding his thanks to Harry, then did a double take, "I can't believe you painted your face."

"I can't believe you're wearing Harpies gear," Harry shot back, once again studying the game.

Fingering his scarf with distaste, Ron grumbled, "Only because the Cannons aren't playing.

Hermione scoffed, glancing up from her book, " _And_ because your sister is more important than a team."

Ron quirked a brow, "Sure. But we still don't know why Harry's exploring his artistic side."

Snatching a packet from Ron's lap, Harry crunched into the salty crisp, carefully itching his nose to avoid smudging, "I'm showing _support_. Plus it's a perfect disguise…covers the scar." He subtly gestured to his green and gold forehead, as Hermione nodded, conceding the point.

"Yeah because sitting with the two of us won't clue anyone in," Ron volleyed, frowning at Harry's stolen snack.

"Stuff it Ron."

Forgoing verbal arguments, Ron flicked Harry's shoulder, an affront his partner refused to take lying down, resulting in a fast paced battle brought to a swift close by a growl from their companion, "Can you two try and act _close_ to your age?"

Ron settled back into his seat, draping an ankle across his knee carelessly, "I believe in truthfulness and honesty. Acting my age would simply be lying dressed up like maturity."

Harry smirked, "No lying eh? So I guess it's alright to tell Hermione you _didn't_ like her trifle last Sunday."

Hermione shouted, looking sheepish when she drew the attention of her fellow fans, before turning her glare back to the boyfriend she _thought_ liked her trifle.

"I never said," Ron asserted, a comforting hand finding her knee, then turned to the dark haired auror, mumbling in a low threatening voice, "You're a dead man."

No longer listening, Harry clapped eyes on Ginny as she swept in and out of the blocks formed by the opposition, twisting in a dramatic corkscrew then rapidly sinking a shot through the far left hoop, bringing the score to a tie.

Once the game reset, the Tornados took possession of the quaffle, only for the infamous Harpies beaters to dive in from opposite sides, the bludger finding its target with vicious precision. Fully prepared, the trio of Harpies chasers slotted themselves beneath the other players, the quaffle falling into Ginny's waiting arms. As the chasers executed a tight hairpin turn, Harry noted the two seekers almost simultaneously slipping into a steep dive, his eyes darting to confirm this _wasn't_ a feint before quickly looking back toward Ginny.

Ginny's fellow chaser Rheta took point position, the arrowhead formation screaming toward the goals. Almost too quick for perception, the players wove in and out of each other, Ginny dropping below the others to switch positions with Rheta and sinking a final goal in the furthest hoop just as the Harpies seeker raised a triumphant fist.

Forgetting himself, Harry once again leapt to his feet, this time in sheer joy, cheering the impeccably trained team, eyes never leaving Ginny's small, lithe form. As if she sensed his gaze, Ginny turned toward their section and smiled brilliantly, face flushed with exertion. Harry grinned back, arms raised over his head excitedly, half convinced that she'd seen him in the crowd.

Once the game was officially ended, a victory for the Harpies in their season opener, Ron and Hermione made for the exit with the other Weasleys who'd sat in little groups separate from each other, hoping to keep the revelers from taking notice of the well-known family. All had agreed they wanted Ginny to have her moment, as free from whispers about her war hero filled family.

In one of the large loos off the corridor, Harry washed the paint from his face, colors swirling into a murky brown down the drain, and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, hopefully disguising his hair and face enough to make it out of the stadium without trouble. After drying his face, he tossed the scratchy towel into a nearby bin and exited into the fray of fans and followed the current, making his way toward where he guessed the post game press conference would take place.

Harry poked his head into a few empty conference rooms, chairs stacked in uneven columns around the room, dated green and gold carpet covered the unforgiving cement. Finally he rounded a corner and found himself in a crowd of reporters being herded by stadium security witches and wizards and immediately, his emerald eyes sought out the newest Harpy recruit, who was currently in the process of answering the question of a stodgy looking wizard wearing a press pass and a tufted purple cap.

Ears fighting uselessly to hear her response over the din of a room full of employees intent on meeting their deadlines, Harry contented himself with lingering against the back wall, making sure to project his desire to remain unmolested by anyone seeking casual conversation. Once the conference wrapped up, Ginny slipped off the end of the dais after an approving nod from Gwenog and made her way toward the back exit. For a moment, Harry feared he'd lose her in the crowd, until it became clear she was headed straight for him, _Guess_ _I'll have to work on my disguise_ …

With a strong tug, she pulled him from the echoing room through a series of corridors and stairwells so quickly, he barely had a chance to note their path and simply followed blindly until they exited into the late afternoon light streaming onto the upper levels of seating. Wordlessly, they each sat one row in front of the other, hands clasped across the gap as Harry twisted awkwardly so he could see her face, nose now healed, minor bruising around her eye the only sign that anything had been amiss.

Ginny's eyes scanned the mostly empty stands, as if committing the moment, the entire day to her memory, before her blazing gaze turned to Harry, "Oh, it was better than I imagined."

Harry stroked the back of her hand gently, "I knew you could do it."

She raised her brows in question.

" _Well,_ a wise woman once told me you just need enough nerve," Harry quoted, eyes never leaving hers.

Slipping from her seat, Ginny knelt behind his chair, hands weaving through his hair as she placed a brief, but searing kiss on his lips, pulling back so their noses brushed lightly, breaths still mixing.

Just as Harry was about to try and figure out a way to transfer her to his lap so they could continue without the strain on her knees and his back, Ginny pulled away. His pride saved only by the disappointment on her face, "Security will be coming around to check for stragglers."

Harry sighed, but stood, gently helping her to stand, "Can't you just tell them off, say you're the star chaser?"

Ginny laughed as they made their way back through the bowels of the stadium, pace much slower than previously, "I'd rather not have my victory be capped with getting caught snogging my boyfriend in the stands."

As they reached the bottom of the stairwell, Harry closed the distance between them and murmured, "How about getting caught snogging in the back garden at the Burrow."

"Leave off the 'getting caught' part and I'm in." Flashing him a wicked smirk, Ginny shot off, glancing back over her shoulder to beckon him on, and disappeared around the corner.

The following evening found Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione in Shetland, crowded around a scarred wooden table in the cozy pub nestled among the squat shops and inns. Tonight was the first chance they'd had to observe the fruits of their labor, the wizarding community mixing together with the trows, enjoying homey dishes and local music that blended pleasantly with laughing voices and rumbling conversation.

Hermione glanced around the room, "Wendell is supposed to be here, but I haven't seen him, I wanted to say thank you for the invitation."

Ginny patted her hand, "I'm sure he'll be around. Figures he invited you and not these two blighters."

Harry clutched his chest in affront as Ron stuck his tongue out in her direction. Ginny rolled her eyes, but continued the conversation, "They're all a bit wary of each other, but over all it seems like things are running smoothly."

Swallowing a bite of cottage pie, Ron nodded in agreement, "I heard the trows have already started their reparations."

Face lighting up, Hermione turned back to her companions, pulling the breadbasket toward her, "Oh yes! They patrol the herds at night and watch for predators."

"That's useful," Harry put in, spreading smooth yellow butter over his still warm roll.

"Oh it is, especially since they've more experience with the _wilder_ magic that exists around here," Hermione posited.

Ginny popped a chip into her mouth before leaning back and putting arm around back of Harry's chair, "Did I tell you Mr. Potter caused a riot at the stadium a few weeks ago."

Grimacing at the memory of grabby 'fans,' Harry snatched a chip from Ginny's plate, covering it with vinegar liberally, "It was hardly a riot…just a minor uprising."

"Hopefully Rita didn't get wind of it," Ron smirked, taking a healthy gulp of lager.

Harry nodded in agreement, eyes mischievous, "Especially since I don't want anyone to get _jealous_ again."

"I was not jealous, I'm quite secure," Ginny shot back, tossing her hair importantly and pulling her arm back to cross over her chest.

"You can be secure and jealous," Harry mused thoughtfully, then went on, "I know because you were both."

Ron let out a bark of a laugh at Ginny's glare, " _Women_."

With a tug on the leg of her chair, Harry brought Ginny close to him again, wrinkling his nose at the sticky, unidentified substance he'd encountered underneath the polished wood seat. After wiping his hand on a serviette, Harry glanced back at his partner, "Oh don't try that Ron, I seem to remember a certain beloved Quidditch figure losing a limb or two during fourth year."

Flushing, Ron grumbled, "Shut it."

Fighting back a smirk, Hermione sipped her scotch and soda, "I really should answer Viktor's letter."

Abandoning his staring contest with Harry, Ron whipped his head toward his girlfriend, nearly upending his lager in the process, "He _wrote_ you?"

Hermione pursed her lips, eyes dangerous, "Well yes, just to say 'congratulations' at the beginning of the summer."

"And you're going to _answer_?"

Sensing the beginning of an argument, Ginny stood abruptly, brining a grateful Harry with her, "We're going to dance."

Deciding dancing with _Neville_ would be better than enduring the argument, Harry let his fit girlfriend tug him toward the small dance floor, but turned back at the last moment, finger raised in warning to his best mates, "Remember we're in public, yeah?"

Ron didn't smile, face shifting into 'brother mode,' "Same to you mate. I'd like to see daylight between you two."

Ginny scowled and proceeded toward their destination without responding to Ron's ridiculousness. As they neared the end of the space cleared for dancing, the band struck up a slow melody. Harry glanced around somewhat nervously, offering a wave to Wendell and the Scollays until Ginny ran a gentle hand over his arm. With a slight tilt of her head, Ginny invited him to dance.

Stepping out onto the floor, Harry pulled Ginny close, slim hands pressed against the small of her back, "This isn't so bad."

"I'm an excellent dancer," the red head boasted, tilting her head back just slightly, the filmy skirt of her sun dress floating gracefully around her legs.

"And humble too," Harry laughed, carefully maneuvering them around a few _tipsy_ couples that stumbled their way through the motions.

"It's not arrogance, it's a fact."

Harry kissed her forehead, "Yes dear."

Fingers playing with the slightly too long hairs at the base of his neck, Ginny frowned, "Come on, I'm pretty good. Your toes are fine, we're following the music."

"My only other experience was the Yule Ball," Harry shrugged, suddenly finding the cluster of freckles between her clavicle and left shoulder fascinating.

Ginny stroked his neck silkily, "Not at Bill's wedding?"

Helplessly, his mind shot back to that night, her gold dress, fighting the urge to approach Ginny, the jealousy at everyone else who _was_ allowed to talk to her and dance with her…and then Kingsley's message. Harry shook the memories from his head, "Nah, there wasn't anyone I wanted to dance with."

"Well," Ginny scoffed with false affront.

Despite the fact that his subsequent actions certainly cleared up any doubt she had about his feelings, Harry felt the need to explain, even with minimal words, "I was your cousin."

Ginny's eyes shuttered slightly, as if remembering that night just as he had moments before. She blinked a few times, then offered a small smile, "Oh _right_."

Harry pulled her closer, all thoughts of Ron's remonstrations far from his mind as he mused, "Dancing is pretty okay; when it's slow too I guess."

Humming quietly, Ginny nodded against his chest, "Just have to find the right partner."

Dipping his head, Harry buried his nose in her flowery smelling hair, lips brushing her temple affectionately. _I guess Millie was right…_

They swayed in silence, the band striking up a new song, still slow and soothing, when Ginny broke their silence, "Although I'm not sure the right partner will fix Neville, the toes on my left foot still ache when it rains."


End file.
